It started with a Kiss
by HilsonFTW
Summary: Set about six months after the Chrinukkah story. House and Wilson really just wanted to spend a fun weekend with their granddaughter, but... A load of blah really, but nice blah I like to think. I add to it in dribs and drabs. Sorry about any inaccuracies about the legal matters in this story, and there are probably lots...
1. Freedom of Speech is not always welcome

House was having an excellent day by anyone's standards. His leg was playing nice, it was an unseasonably warm Friday afternoon in May and he was on his way to Gina's school to pick her up for the weekend. He was looking forward to hearing her progress on the piano, and they were going to meet up with the Foremans who were taking care of their baby grandson for the weekend and take the kids to the zoo together. Not exactly Vegas alright, but then who needed Vegas all the time? Sometimes T-shirt weather, manageable pain levels and Wagner on a car stereo big enough to intimidate a Compton pimp were perfectly good enough to make for an enjoyable time. The car stereo was a recent acquisition, along with the car it was in, because after Wilson's illness they had decided to spoil themselves a bit. Of course it was a - YAWN - Volvo again, what with Wilson doing most of the driving and all, but House had made sure there was some fun to be had with the engine and the sound system would roughly double the value of the vehicle. It was also an extremely nifty shade of metallic blue and House was looking forward to surprising their granddaughter with it.

Still, he couldn't help clenching his teeth when he got to the school and the handicap spaces right outside the entrance were, once again, taken, and of course by people with perfectly good legs. There was no point in trying to find the culprits, so he just turned around and parked outside the gates. She'd find him anyway, wouldn't she? After all, how many Volvos with handicap plates would be parked there on any random Friday afternoon? He could see her coming out of the doors now, distracted from her conversation with another girl about her age by looking around for him. He honked the horn once. "Just look over here", he telepathed over to her knowing it was perfectly pointless to do so. Ah right, she had clocked the cars in the handicap spaces and was walking towards the gates, still talking to her friend. He honked again and she finally noticed and started to run, her friend following her. She was a dark-complexioned girl in thick black pigtails, south Asian maybe. He let down the window when Gina arrived. "Can Meera come, too?" She asked before even saying hi. He took Meera to be her friend, who was now standing slightly further back, with a shy smile on her face. "I told her we were going to the zoo, and your big piano and... Where's Grampa? Is he ok?" She looked anxious for a second. "He's ok, just wanted a sit down after getting in enough provisions to get us through a minor nuclear war." Gina giggled. "So we won't starve?" "No, I think we can be sure of that. Whatever happens, starvation won't be a threat." "Do you think there's enough for Meera, too?" "I'm sure there is, but shouldn't we ask her Mom first? Maybe she has other plans for her?" "My grandma is picking me up", Meera piped up. "She's come from India the first time since we moved here. I don't think she'll let me stay over." "Why not?" "Why don't you ask her?" House suggested. "Is that her over there?" He pointed out a lady in a sari walking towards them, very dignified, about Wilson's age. "But she doesn't know you, and she can't really speak English that well..." Meera shook her head in a resigned way. "I think I'll have to go home." "Bring her over, I'll talk to her." "But..." But Meera did as told anyway. House gave the old lady his best smile when she came to the window and tried to charm her in Hindi. What a delight to meet her, their granddaughters were friends, maybe Meera could stay the night, he'd bring her home straight after breakfast and so on. The two little girls were gawking, the Hindi, rusty as it was, had definitely come as a surprise. Grandma Meera, on the other hand, just seemed happy to be able to converse in her own language for a change. Yes, she was delighted to make his acquaintance, but no, she really wanted to see as much as she could of Meera for the fortnight she'd be in Princeton, any other time she was sure her son and his wife would be only too happy, but... Suddenly Gina had an idea. "Ask her if she and Meera want to come to the zoo with us!" "I would if I knew the Hindi for zoo..." Meera translated, but her grandmother wasn't giving in. No, not tomorrow, they were going to meet up with another family member who had especially flown in from California, but still, what a pleasure to meet him. House saw the point. "Sorry, Meera, I think you'll have to go home." She giggled. "It's ok, grandma is quite fun, too. Only in Hindi." They waved their good-byes and Gina got into the back of the car. He didn't have to get out, she knew the drill, throw in the backpack, shove in the booster seat, get in, put on the seatbelt. "Uncle Greg, how did you learn Hindi?" She was still amazed. "My Dad was stationed in India for a while when I was a kid; I picked up some bits and pieces." "Wow, that must have been amazing!" "India was. My Dad... Less so." She knew about his childhood in a vague way, so there was no need to beautify anything. On the way home she chattered about her school-day the way little girls will and House breathed an inward sigh of relief. He would have taken Meera along of course, anything for Gina, but two little girls did seem a bit much to look after and as for going to the zoo with two complete strangers, the very idea made him feel paranoid.

When they got back to the house, there was a crowd to twenty or so people holding placards outside the door who House was, for the moment, happy to ignore. Their downstairs neighbour, the Reverend, seemed to be talking at them through a megaphone. Strange place for a service, but hey-ho. He shrugged it off. Only then Gina pointed at one of the signs. "Uncle Greg... What's a Jew fag?"

Jew fag? WTF? House did give the placards a closer look after all. Ok, so the Reverend didn't like him or Wilson, that wasn't exactly news, but now he had obviously got some of his little play friends together to... To what actually? Asshole... He thought for a moment, then turned around in his seat to face Gina. "It's a very very nasty word for your Grampa that I don't ever want you to use, and it means these people out there don't like him... And me I guess. It also means that we'll get out of this car now and walk right through that crowd ignoring whatever they say. I'll explain what else it means later." "Why don't you want me to use that word?" "Cos it's a bad word." "But you use lots of bad words yourself... Especially about Grampa" "Yeah, but they're bad in a different way. Honestly, just don't use it, ok? And now let's go!" They got out and House felt the hatred hit him almost physically. He had never assumed he was liked, or indeed striven for it, but this was something different altogether, these guys really thought him the scum of the earth. What was the Reverend saying? "Look at the pathetic cripple dragging an innocent child down to hell with him!" WHAT? "The lord has twisted his limbs to show him the error of his sinful ways, yet he will not repent..." Wow... This was actually so over the top that it was nearly funny again. What wasn't so funny, though, was that those people didn't make way for him and Gina to get through. It was fine for her, she was small and sprightly and could wiggle through between their legs, but he found it hard enough to stay upright these days without having to squeeze his way through a crowd of religious nutjobs who seemed to take the risk of physical injury to the objects of their misgivings in their stride. He slowly edged forward, feeling pummelled from all sides. Careful... Shit, he had nearly lost his footing. Gina was turning around for him, looking concerned. He tried his best regarding an encouraging smile but was pretty sure it didn't really come out that way. Both heaved a sigh of relief when they had finally made it through the door and into the lobby.

Gina looked grave. "Why didn't they let us through?" "Because they're assholes? And I guess they don't care if the lord twists my limbs just a little more..." "What does that MEAN?" "It means they think God's given me my owee to punish me for being a bad person." "But you're not a bad person!" House smiled. "There are people who'd disagree with that, and some for very good reasons. These guys have picked out a really stupid one, though. Anyway, let's get upstairs, I think Wilson mentioned brioche before he went shopping..." "Mmmmmmmmm..." They stepped into the elevator together.

Upstairs they were received by a delicious smell of baking and some pretty weird music. "Wilson?" "Out here!" They went through to the balcony where Wilson was sitting sipping on a glass of Chardonnay and listening to... To what? "Show tunes?" House's jaw dropped. Wilson just shrugged and took another sip. "Ethel Merman's greatest hits. They want Jew fag, I'll give them Jew fag!" House gave him a big kiss for that; he loved defiance the Wilson way. "Right, so you've already noticed." "Well, being neither blind nor deaf... I saw them when I was vacuuming up the greasy donut crumbs in the bay window." House chose to ignore the "At least use a plate, silly!" Undertone in this. "You think we should do anything?" "Not before they do any real damage, why reward them with attention?" "But they nearly did do real damage!" Gina piped up. "Huh? Come to Grampa, tell him what the mean people did to you!" Wilson attempted to lift Gina onto his lap but she wriggled herself free. "Not to me, to uncle Greg! They didn't make way for him, he nearly fell!" "Oh shit, they really mean it, do they? Your call, House!" House sat down first. "Is there another glass? Gina, get your old uncle a wine glass from the kitchen. And some juice for yourself if you want it." "Thank you!" She went off to get her drink and another glass, and House turned his attention to the matter at hand again. "You're right, why give them the attention they're craving. I can have a perfectly good time ignoring them."

Only ignoring the crowd outside the door turned out to be more easily said than done, and if only because Gina kept bombarding them with questions of the matter for the rest of the afternoon. "But why are they doing that?" House and Wilson looked at each other - good one. Total, stupid irrationality didn't really sit well with either of them as an explanation of human behaviour, however much personal experience spoke against that stance. Still... "Because they're stupid?" House ventured. "Lots of people are stupid, but they don't all do that!" "But that's still what it boils down to in the end. We all do stupid things. I nearly killed myself several times over for stupid reasons, they want to tell the world we're bad people for stupid reasons." Gina slowly nodded but still wasn't quite happy: "So what IS a Jew fag?" "A Jewish gay man", Wilson answered perfectly calmly. "But that's what you are, so what's so bad about the word?" "It's a word you only use if you really hate that Jewish gay man, just for being Jewish and gay. And besides I'm not." "Not what?" "Gay!" "Yes you are! My teacher said if a man is in love with another man it means he's gay. And you're in love with uncle Greg." "Q.E.D.", House muttered under his breath, ignoring Wilson giving him the evil eye for it. "Well, ok. Your teacher's not wrong there, but I've been in love with lots of women, too, before we got together. See, it's more complicated than that. Sometimes people just fall in love, regardless of gender or anything, and I guess that's what happened to us." House noticed his fond look in his peripheral vision and couldn't help but return it. "Why is it so complicated?" Here House felt his expertise was called for, he did complicated better than anyone. "Because love just is... Can we have some dinner now?" Most of the Q&A had taken place in the kitchen during the preparation of a gargantuan pizza that was now in the oven. "Five more minutes. You COULD set the table..." House rolled his eyes to heaven but set the table anyway, and a good five minutes later they were all tucking in, happily acknowledging that it had started to rain and the nutjobs outside were getting very wet indeed.

Still, they hadn't seen the last of it. Much much later that night, hours after they had found Gina an ancient T-shirt of Wilson's to wear to bed because she had forgotten to pack her PJ's and tucked her in, House woke up from his scar tingling. He did a mental scan for any signs of a pain attack but then noticed the actual cause - Wilson was fondling it. House ruffled his hair that had nearly grown back to its accustomed length and kissed his neck. They were just about to get down to business when the door opened and Gina was standing there with her stuffed tiger dangling from her hand. Wilson's T-shirt was all over the place, as was her hair and she looked scared. "Huh?" "I had a bad dream..." "Aw, come in, you can crawl in between us and then you'll feel all better." What? Hadn't they had other plans? House threw Wilson a murderous look. Ok, he was all for comforting small children, but sharing a bed with them when you'd just been about to have some adult fun? Wilson got out of the way so she could crawl in, then took her in his arms. "Tell me all about it, no point in keeping it in." "I dreamt of these mean people downstairs, they tried to take me away... And..." She started to cry. "And they said you'd go to hell and they were saving me. And they took me to one of these places where they show you what hell is like to make people scared. And they said horrible things about Mom and grandma, too... They said grandma was dressed like the whore of Babylon." House bit his pillow as not to laugh out loud. They did have a point there. And a very sexy whore of Babylon she was, too, still. Gina brightened up all of a sudden. "What is the whore of Babylon?" Wow, it was incredible what kids piled up in their subconscious without ever really learning about it. "It's a biblical allegory for all sorts of bad things basically." "Allegory?" But before House could come up with a good explanation for that, she had fallen asleep between them. So much for getting down and dirty with Wilson...

"Remind me to call the cops in the morning if they're still there then." Wilson agreed. Annoying two old men who could take it was one thing, but upsetting an innocent little girl was on quite a different scale.


	2. Clashing Views of Christianity

There was no need to call the cops in the morning, because while the protestors were still outside the door someone else had obviously got sick of them, too, and given the police station a ring while everyone upstairs was still fast asleep. Consequently, when their doorbell rang and a cop introduced himself from out on the landing they were somewhat perplexed and not at all ready for him. House was making coffee in his boxers and a t-shirt, bits of him still wet from the shower, and Wilson, in pyjama bottoms and a bathrobe, was helping Gina with her hair while she was debating with herself what she wanted for breakfast, pancakes or waffles. Usually they just shouted at people to come in, but right now they hadn't even unlocked the door yet. "Will you go and let him in?" Wilson asked Gina who was the only one in a presentable state of attire, denim dungarees and a stripy little t-shirt. He fixed her second pony tail to the best of his negligible abilities, mumbling something about the collateral Benefits of chemo under his breath, and she went to let the cop in.

"Are you going to send the mean people away?" She asked him before even saying hello. "They're horrible, they gave me a bad dream and they nearly made uncle Greg fall!" House could see the cop smiling at her through the kitchen door. "I first have to find out if they're really the mean ones here, then we might be able to do something about it, ok?" "But they are!" "We'll see..." He was a young guy, mid-twenties maybe, good-looking in that east coast Irish American cop kind of way. "McCarthy", his name badge said, and House found himself disappointed it wasn't Mariano or Goldstein just for a bit of variety. Still, as long as it wasn't Tritter... "Have a seat", Wilson invited him into the kitchen. "Coffee's not ready yet, sorry. We hadn't expected you quite so early." Officer McCarthy sat down. "So you had expected me?" "Well, we were going to call you straight after breakfast, but obviously someone got there earlier. What can we do for you?" The cop cocked an eyebrow, obviously at his slurred speech. "Are you..." "Yes, he's ok and he's stonecold sober!" House hated these inquiries with a passion and didn't care much if his tone offended. Wilson was, as ever, more conciliatory. "I had a brain haemorrhage. Just ignore the slur, and the limp, too I guess. Well," He looked at House. "Both the limps actually." "Ok!" He took a note. "Well, I came here because your neighbours downstairs called me about the people outside creating a disturbance, and according to the people outside you're the real problem, so obviously I have to investigate." Wilson nodded. "They would say that. The Reverend's been at us ever since he moved into the building three years ago. Pamphlets under the door, our friends being preached at in the lobby, that kind of thing." "And why do you think he'd do that?" "Well you HAVE seen their signs, haven't you?" Now it was House's time to cock an eyebrow. "Boy, are these guys not into same-sex relationships!" "And you think that's the only thing that makes them picket your building?" "Yes, for all I can see." Wilson took over again. "It's not like we're particularly provocative about it either. I mean, we're past the age of frenching each other in the elevator." "Are we?" House grinned. "Well, we sure as hell haven't done it in a very long time..." "Hm yeah, guess so. Anyway, officer, I guess the way they're stepping up the campaign might have to do with our granddaughter here. The Reverend was shouting something about us dragging her down to hell yesterday." Gina nodded vigorously. "That was when they nearly made him fall! And anyway, if these people go to heaven I'd rather be in hell with Grampa and uncle Greg, they're much more fun!" The doorbell rang again. "Come in", House shouted, assuming that mad axe-murderers didn't customarily call at half past eight on Saturday morning. Their neighbour across the landing, Mrs. Kaminski, came straight into the kitchen. "James, are these guys for real?" She demanded. "I mean - Jew fag? What?" The coffee was finally done and everyone helped themselves. Wilson smiled wryly. "Seems like they are. It's good to know you're on our side." "Well of course I am. Geez, the Reverend just told me I'd see his point if I just let Jesus into my life!" "Wow, just the thing to tell a Jewish girl." "That's exactly what I said to him. Dunno about you, but so far I've always been perfectly happy being Jewish and have no intention of changing that." "Yeah, right!" "Huh?" House very much begged to disagree "Happy being Jewish, now there's an oxymoron for you." "WHAT?" Wilson nearly spat out his coffee. "Hate to break the news to you, but you people don't do happy as an ethnicity. If you did Woody Allen would have owned a kosher deli." "Speaks Greg House from a perspective of unrivalled expertise." "Yep! I don't need to be a chicken to know if an egg is good, do I? And Jews and happiness just don't go together. I mean, c'mon, after 5000 years of being bullied by an authoritarian bastard of a father figure who gets pissy if you as much as suggest there might actually be a world out there? I only had 18 years of that, with interruptions, and still get nightmares!" "Ah, that's where that came from, I should have known. And then of course 2000 years of guilt-tripping after a guy had himself killed in the most grotesquely painful way possible on your behalf just makes for absolute bliss, doesn't it?" "Well see? That guy was a Jew. There, gotcha, touchdown!"

Gina and officer McCarthy looked at each other, the latter asking her something that sounded suspiciously like "Are they always like that?" Gina shrugged and giggled. "They're nice really. They just don't want anyone to know I think." They all went back to the matter at hand. "So is there any other reason why you think it might have to do with your granddaughter?" "The picket seems timed that way", Wilson suggested. "Gina comes to stay with us every four weeks, so I guess that pattern is easy enough to discern. I'm 100% sure they'll be gone by the time we get back from taking her to school on Monday morning and back in four weeks actually." Mrs Kaminski agreed. "I know the Reverend has always harassed Dr House and Dr Wilson, and the danger he thinks they're putting Gina in seems like a good excuse to go public, doesn't it?" "Would you really call it harassment?" "Yes!" She lowered her voice. "Can we leave the room for a moment?" House's and Wilson's jaws dropped in perfect synchronicity, and House was the first to regain the power of speech. "What are you keeping from us?" She blushed. "Nothing you couldn't guess at anyway I suppose. Signs outside the door I've peeled off mostly. They said things like sodomite's den, and I didn't want you to see them because I felt you really get enough shit from the Reverend as it is." Wilson gave her a warm smile and put his arm around her. "Thanks, Ella, but we can take it. And I bet the sodomites' den one had the apostrophe in the wrong place." She chuckled. "It did, actually." "See? So we could have still felt good about our superior brainpower."

Once again it was up to officer McCarthy to drag the debate back to topic. "So we have leaflets, friends being... Talked to, abusive signs and now the picket. Mrs..." "...Kaminski" "Thanks!" Another note. "Would you have kept any of these signs? It would definitely help your neighbours' case against them." She shook her head. "I don't want stuff like that in the House, so I tore them up and chucked them out straightaway." "Ok, the next time you see one I want you to keep it, alright? See, right now we can't really get these guys because all they're doing is exercise their right to free speech, but if we can prove they've been running a campaign of harassment against your neighbours based on sexual orientation it's a quite a different matter." "We're not gay!" "But..." "Call it queer if you need a label", Wilson suggested. "We both had plenty of straight relationships before we got together, and they seemed pretty real at the time." "It would still stand up as harassment for sexual orientation because you're very obviously not straight in the way your harassers down there would like it to be. Still, this way or the other, I need more proof. Have they done anything but stand there and shout?" "Not got out of the way for an old cripple?" House ventured. "I'd call that common courtesy, but they obviously don't agree." "Hm yes, your granddaughter mentioned something like that. What exactly happened?" "They nearly managed to push me over, that's what happened!" House really really wanted some breakfast now and was not in the mood for stating the obvious contests. Once again Wilson poured oil on the waves. "That walker is not exactly a stage prop, officer. Dr House has severe chronic pain in his right leg and an artificial hip joint that hasn't healed in properly on the left, so he's pretty much dependent on people making way for him because there's not much holding him up." "You wouldn't believe what sheer stubbornness can achieve..." Wilson rolled his eyes. "Fine, apart from sheer stubbornness. Anyway, not getting out of the way for an old man with an obvious mobility impairment does seem to go beyond just standing there and shouting." Gina piped up. "It was like they were trying to topple him, I was really scared." "So what did they do to you to make you scared?" "I wasn't scared for myself, silly! I was scared for uncle Greg!" Wilson seemed to see the need to exercise his grandfatherly authority at this point. "You can't call a policeman silly, Gina. Certainly not when he's trying to help us." "But he IS being silly!" "No, he's just trying to make sure he's getting all the facts down correctly..." Officer McCarthy seemed to take the whole exchange in the right spirit, though. "It's ok, you were only worried about your uncle. You like him a lot, do you?" Gina nodded. "Uncle Greg is great! And Grampa, too, and I don't want anyone to be mean to them!" "That makes perfect sense. Right, I think I've got down everything I need to know. Now, I can't promise you you'll get rid of your visitors today, but I think we have a pretty clear case here that they are the problem and not you." He gave them an encouraging smile, took everyone's details and departed.

Breakfast, finally. Wilson fired up the iron and made enough waffles to feed an army while House made the second pot of coffee of the day and a hot chocolate for Gina. Mrs Kaminski hung around a bit, too: she had just been on her way to get some breakfast when confronted with the throngs of deranged humanity outside the door and was as fond of Wilson's cooking as anyone.

It was weird, if the nutjobs downstairs had the intention of making the freaks upstairs feel bad about themselves they were failing dismally. Being up against something so utterly ludicrous and embarrassing, AND obviously getting back up from people as normal as Mrs. Kaminski or the cop made House feel good about himself and immune, as close to happy as it got with him. Getting ready for the afternoon's outing he donned a T-shirt saying PSYCHIATRIC GERIATRIC in huge letters to let the world know and dragged the wheelchair from the far corner of the closet as his annual sensible decision. His leg was still behaving itself and there was no point in provoking it needlessly by walking around on it for hours - or 15 minutes probably, by which time he'd have to sit down anyway and wait for the rest to finish their merry way around the zoo without him. No, sitting down to start with and probably having Wilson sweat a bit pushing him every now and then when his wrists started protesting was the far more fun option. He gave it a perfunctory dusting with yesterday's left sock before sitting down in it: avoiding a lecture from Wilson about his housekeeping skills was the far more fun option, too.

They met up with Foreman, Jada and baby Nathan outside the gates of what had been animal kingdom the last time House had been there, how ever many decades ago. It had been pretty tiny back then, but by now had grown into a fairly respectable zoo, certainly for anywhere within half an hour's drive from Princeton. Nathan was now homing in on his first birthday and beginning explore the world around him, babbling and crawling and pulling himself up on all things and anything including other people's wobbly legs to stand up and try walking. His grandparents found it well nigh impossible to get him to stay in his stroller, he fidgeted and squirmed and hollered in protest trying to get as close as possible to the animal enclosures and probably inside. "Look at House!" Foreman remonstrated with him. "He's being good and staying in HIS stroller!" "Stroller..." "Well it's the same thing from his point of view, isn't it?" "And I'd be fidgeting and squirming and hollering just as much if YOU had put me into it." "Well we knew that!" Nathan, in the meantime, had actually taken an interest in that big stroller with the big man in it. "Bib dolla!" He gurgled and stretched out his arms towards House. "Bib mam!" "I think he likes you, House..." "Well, there's the first big mistake of his life." "Wow, it's self-awareness day, is it?" Wilson bent down to share a kiss with his favourite mistake. "Actually..." Jada had an idea. "Would you mind holding him on your lap? He really seems to like you and might actually stay in one place for more than five seconds then." House shrugged. "Fine, as long as he doesn't try to sit on the wrong leg..." He reached over to lift Nathan onto his lap. "Come to Uncle Greg, Nat, your Grampa can push." His Grampa had learned that resistance was futile more than thirty years ago and duly started pushing.

Nathan did indeed calm down in House's care - for whichever reason - and they made a happy enough party going around the zoo, with Gina constantly running fifty yards ahead of everyone else and then shuttling back and forth to tell them what next they really, totally, absolutely HAD to look at, and needing the occasional reminder that they were all a LOT older than her and Wilson in particular wasn't as fast as he used to be. For a moment, she looked sad again being reminded of it; she still seemed to have a hard time dealing with what had after all happened in her presence and still sometimes seemed to think she had played a part in it. "I think someone needs a hug and an ice cream." Wilson gave her a smile and led the way to the cafeteria for ice cream, sodas and coffees. Once seated, he took Gina on his lap and gave her a big hug. "Listen", he said. "This is not. Your. Fault. Ok?" "But how can you be so sure?" "House showed you in the book, didn't he? There's far too much protective covering between you and my brain for you to do any damage to it." "Are you sure?" "Absolutely! On the contrary, you probably saved my life because you were there when it happened and did such a great job telling Foreman what you had seen." Foreman nodded vigorously. "If you hadn't done that your Grampa might be dead now, or a vegetable." "A vegetable?" Gina registered astonishment. "Like a... leek?" House dug the mental image for a moment, that leek in a McGill sweatshirt sure looked interesting. He sniggered. "Haw haw, House." Wilson retorted. "A leek in my sweatshirt. Isn't it hilarious?" "Yep, it actually is!" Wow, they could read each other's thoughts now. Scary stuff. He looked at Gina. "No, not like a leek. When doctors say someone's a vegetable it means their brain is so damaged they... don't know they exist anymore. They can't move, can't think, can't interact, they just lie there for the rest of their lives." "Like a leek." "Like a leek. Not long and green, though." Gina giggled. "Ok." She thought for a moment. "And that's what could have happened to Grampa if I hadn't been there?" "There's a fair chance." Wilson pulled her closer to his chest. "So you're my big life-saving heroine, ok? I might not be sitting here now if you hadn't been there." Gina looked very proud now and delightedly accepted a huge cuddle.

Still, with all the bonhomie and the good time he was having, House still couldn't help noticing that Wilson seemed pre-occupied about something. He did his short checkover looks on him that he thought he didn't know about far more often than usual and seemed to keep trying to get sneak peeks at his eyes. When Foreman and Jada had gone to take the short ones to the bathroom he took the opportunity. "Ok, what are you worried about?" "Me? Nothing! Having a great time, actually!" "Wilson, there's a reason why your acting ambitions in high school came to nothing. Just tell me!" "There's nothing to tell, ok?" "Yes there is. And no, my eyes are neither glazed nor are my pupils any size they shouldn't be. I'm stone cold sober. I have been for the past ten years. I have no intention to ever take narcotics of any kind again. They'd kill me, for fuck's sake!" "And what would you care? You might have been sober for the past ten years, but you've been ready to go for more than 40!" Oh shit... Of all the times he could have picked for a meltdown Wilson had to settle for this one? House couldn't help but gasp. Wilson had been scared he might deliberately try to top himself - as opposed to accidentally overdosing, experimentally electrocuting himself to see what it would feel like or risk having his brain fried for diagnostic purposes - for more than 40 years? Holy crap... The sarcastic retort he'd had ready died on his lips. Locking his reason for living in a tight embrace almost came naturally. He knocked his coffee over in the process but didn't care shit. Wilson returned the embrace and he could feel a tear or two on his shoulder. He gently moved his hands up and down his back. "I'm not ready to go, I promise." He found that he was talking in a low murmur, soothingly, and he meant it, too. "I never have been, idiot. I'd miss you too much." Wilson chuckled softly. "So you think you'd actually go somewhere where you could miss me?" "Not really, but being with you is sure as hell better than being without you and I want to get as much of it as I possibly can. As long as you're alive, I want to be, too, ok?" He could feel Wilson's embrace tightening around him and savoured it. "I think that might be the sweetest thing you've ever said to me" A voice murmured somewhere near his neck. "You're welcome! Just don't get too used to it, cos you're gonna be disappointed." Wilson chuckled again. "That's better... I thought you'd gone weird there for a moment." "Uhu... I was beginning to scare myself actually. And the next time you have a serious concern about me, kindly take less than 40 years to tell, asshole!" "Ok..." "Honestly, PLEASE stop trying to protect me all the time, there's no point. I always find out anyway, ok? And I'm tougher than you think, or I WOULD have topped myself a couple of decades ago. You've gotta be tough to survive being in pain 24/7." Wilson nodded. "Makes sense... So..." "I'm just having a really good day, ok? Let's enjoy it while it lasts, cos the crash is gonna be hard." Suddenly they seemed to feel a gaze on them simultaneously and broke apart. The others had obviously been back for a while. "So... You've seen... how much of this performance?" Foreman smiled. "Not much I think. And it seems to have done you good, you look a lot more relaxed now." Wilson nodded. "I am. Are we going to see the bonobos?"

With all the new people and things to see, Nathan had gone calm and sleepy and Foreman bustled him back into the stroller where he fell asleep almost immediately. He then handed House his backpack to get out the wheelchair mitts. "Exercise time, House, I need to look after my grandson." "Jada could do that", House sulked. "If you ever really need her help I'm sure she'll be there for you. And now get going and wheel your own ass around!" "What a way to talk to your old boss..." "Yep, OLD boss!" "Chase would have started pushing already." "Oh my God, Wilson! You gotta take him to Mayfield again! He thinks I'm a white Australian lick-spittle!" Wilson was grinning from ear to ear. Actually, even Gina was grinning from ear to ear. Oh great, he was about to have the piss taken out of him by a seven-year-old. House rolled his eyes and pulled on the mitts.

Gina ran ahead again and almost immediately came back with eyes the size of saucers. "Grampa, Uncle Greg, you've got to see these monkeys up ahead! They're... They're..." She shook her head in amazement and tried to pull Wilson along with her. "Easy, I'm sure they're not gonna run away" He smiled. "But I might trip and break something and not be able to make you pizza for months." "Oh..." She slowed down for a moment, before he amazement carried her away again. About 100 yards ahead she stopped and waved. "Here! Look! They're..." "They're making out", House dryly observed when the rest of them arrived at the enclosure. "And they're apes, not monkeys." The bonobos were indeed happily occupied with what they were best at, slobbering each other off, penis fencing, penetrating each other left, right and centre and generally having the kind of good time that members of allegedly more advanced species usually had to go to Vegas to get. "They're what?" "They're having sex. It's the way they socialise." "You mean they're making babies?" "Hm yeah, kind of. Though I think they're more doing this for fun." "For fun? EW!" "You'll learn to enjoy it when you're older, believe me." Wilson was watching two males jerking each other off and flashed a grin at House. "Who said that was unnatural again?" "Not me..." "Maybe we should bring the Reverend and his little play friends here?" "They'd say all bonobos are possessed by the devil and sue the zoo for corrupting innocent children." "The Reverend? Your neighbour? What's he done now?" Foreman knew they weren't exactly high up on the Reverend's Christmas card list. "You'll see when we get there", House said darkly. He didn't want thoughts of the picket to intrude in the afternoon's pleasure. "Well, they might already be gone when we get home", Wilson suggested a tad overoptimistic. "Yeah, right!" Gina was too busy having the intricacies of bonobo family life explained to her by Jada to pay the conversation any heed. Thank goodness, too. House really didn't want to discuss the matter right here, right now.

Still, he hadn't realised how soon he would have to discuss the matter anyway - with the perpetrators. They had obviously posted a look-out on the corner, and by the time Wilson was about to pull the Volvo back into its accustomed space outside their apartment building it had been taken. Alright, so it wasn't unusual to see perfectly able-bodied people occupying the cripple space, but they usually did it by parking a car there. Those guys had chosen to stage a sit-in instead. House closed his eyes and opened them again. Still the same. "Wilson, pinch me!" Wilson pinched. Still the same. House blinked again. "Wilson, what are you seeing there?" "About a dozen religious nutjobs staging a sit-in in our parking space." "So I'm not ready for Mayfield again." "Well, not in that way at any rate." House leant out of the window. "Alright, boys and girls, the head-cripple is back, so everyone who doesn't have a handicap plate on their ass, go home to Mom now and have your milk and cookies! I wanna get upstairs and get a beer from the fridge!" They didn't move. Foreman and Jada were coming up the street with Nathan in his stroller and House was treated to seeing their jaws drop in perfect synchronicity. Foreman came over and stuck his head into the window. "Who are these people?" "Just your brothers in Christ making their point about same sex relationships. I think they might not like the idea." Foreman rolled his eyes at the jibe. "Just make for pulling in carefully, Wilson", he suggested. "They'll have to move eventually to get away." "And give them the chance to find a lawyer who construes that as aggression? No way in hell! I'm parking up the road!" House couldn't say much against that, he didn't have to walk it today after all, and so Wilson found them a space 50 yards away.

By the time they got back to the entrance, Foreman was inquiring from the Reverend which version of the bible exactly he had got his ideas from because it couldn't be the one featuring Jesus. "The lord said not to lie with a man as with a woman." "Y'know, I don't think they do. It involves different orifices. And if I remember correctly the lord also preached tolerance and respect. That was in season two, though, you might have missed that. Look, just leave two old men alone! They've done more good for the human race in their wretched, sinful lives than you ever will." "I would if they didn't extend their bad influence to everyone in the house and an innocent child." "Which bad influence exactly?" "Secularism, atheism, sodomy, tolerance of sin..." Foreman looked up at the placard saying Jew fag: "You know what? Jesus was a Jew who chose to spend his time with cripples and sinners. I think I'm a pretty good company with these two." "There will be a time when you hear the message of the lord but by then it may be too late for you." "I heard the message of the lord before you were even born, and it spoke of love. And now pack up and go home, before he cops get serious with you." The Reverend obviously made an effort to give a dignified reply. "Should the police try to remove us we will resist peacefully and continue to make our point." "Wow..." Foreman was obviously dumbstruck. House and Wilson looked at each other, and House found his speech again first. "It's civil disobedience, Jim, but not as we know it."

They went through the crowd in single file, Wilson pushing the wheelchair because it gave him more support than the cane, should the pushing and shoving business start again. When they finally got to the safe haven of the apartment they were out of breath. Wilson almost slipped on the message that had been slipped under the door and groaned. "Can't he even leave them when he's out on the sidewalk annoying most of Princeton?" Foreman picked it up. "I don't think it's one of his." He passed it to Wilson. "Here, have a look." House and Wilson read it on the sofa.

"Just to let you know I've contacted the rental agency and if I have anything to do with it the Reverend will be out on his ear. Don't let this get you down, we're all on your side.

All the best,

Tom Garrison"

Wilson smiled. "That's good of him." "And totally pointless." "Still good of him. And I don't think pointless, either. As the janitor he has a lot more say who can rent here and who can't than the rest of us." "I hope you're right. Foreman, get your old boss and his special friend a beer from the fridge! And if you ask nicely you can get yourself one, too." Foreman, however, turned out of be very busy with Nathan all of a sudden, so Jada answered for him. "I think Eric and me are both more in a wine frame of mind, mind if we open a bottle?" Wilson pointed vaguely towards the kitchen. "There's a pretty good Merlot in the cupboard above the fridge, help yourselves!" "Grampa, is there pineapple juice in the fridge?" "There always is when you come. You can help Jada with all the drinks, and I'm sure she'll pour you one then." "Of course I will, honey. And if you want you can help with Nathan later, too." "Really?" Gina was delighted. "Thank you!" "What are you thanking me for, I'll have less work of it after all" Jada winked. But Gina had already run out of the kitchen to watch the fascinating process of Nathan being changed.

Eventually they all settled down around the coffee table and discussed the obvious choice of topic. "So how do you think you'll get rid of these guys?" "THESE GUYS?" House raised his eye-brows. "You'll want to give your brothers in faith a bit more respect than that!" "You needed that, didn't you?" "Just making a point that might actually be important here. They essentially believe in the same stuff as you." "If by 'the same stuff' you mean a triune good who sacrificed himself on the cross for the good of the humane race and redemption of the morally good, yes. If you mean their definition of 'morally good', no. And you fucking well know that!" "That's not up for debate! What's up for debate is that you believe in an ideology that makes both ideas of what is morally good perfectly justified!" Foreman rolled his eyes. "And which ideology doesn't? I hear the Nazis weren't one bit into Christianity. Listen, House, it's not about ideology and beliefs, it's about being a decent person or being an asshole." "And what defines that, if not your belief system? Their belief system tells them I'm an asshole. Well, I am, but not the way they think. My belief system tells me they're assholes." "Anyone feel like cooking dinner?" Wilson exchanged a wry grin with Jada and Gina and the three of them retired to the kitchen, leaving little Nathan to get his first taste of pointless ideological debate.

Two large portions of coq au vin, a generous half a bottle of vin sans coq and any amount of cock jokes later, House was in a much more conciliatory mood and actually ready to discuss God's own headcases in a pragmatic way. "The Garrisons got the cops in this morning, only of course they can't do anything as long as our friends there just hang around and don't do anything aggressive. You gotta love freedom of speech..." "What does freedom of speech mean?" "It means that any old asshole can say about me and your Grampa whatever the hell they like in whichever place they want to and will probably get away with it as long as they don't accuse me of breaking the law." "Wow, that'll really teach her to appreciate the first amendment..." "Fuck the first amendment!" Wilson shrugged. "It's an opinion I guess..." "Seriously, fuck it! It's just another excuse for people to act like assholes!" "Like every other belief system." "Right, get yourself a lollypop, Foreman, you win..." "Anyway", Wilson brought the conversation back to topic. "The cops came and talked to them, and were of course told we're the problem, so one of them came up to us and left with the impression that we're not." "We hope..." House suddenly realised they were holding hands. "Yes, we hope. But it's pretty realistic I think. Ella from across the landing came in and told him a couple of things about the Reverend's behaviour we hadn't even been aware of, so I guess that might help." "And why the hell did he choose this point in time to start his little campaign after three years of annoying you without involving the entire neighbourhood?" Wilson shrugged. "My guess is that it's got to do with Gina." "So will they stay away and leave you alone if I stop coming? Cos then I will..." Gina looked sad and concerned. "You most certainly will NOT!" Wilson was uncharacteristically passionate. "We'll fight this, and you come here for as long and as often as you want! Just don't listen to anything they tell you, ok?" She nodded. "Ok!" "Their excuse seems to be that they have to protect her from our evil influence. Basically, I bet anything they'll be gone on Monday morning and back in four weeks." Foreman nodded. "Why stop Rachel in the lobby and have a discreet chat with her the next time she comes if they can be a public nuisance instead?" "Exactly!" "Well, fingers crossed here the cops will find a way of getting rid of them for you. Have they done anything that wouldn't be covered by the first amendment yet?" "Nearly shoved me over yesterday. But it would take a pretty good lawyer to make the way they did it a steadfast case of threatening behaviour." "Yeah well, they're not stupid..." "Yes they ARE!" "Ok, they are. But cunning with it..." "HENRY!" House shoved the cat off the table in the last moment, he had been just about to try the leftovers. "Aw, can't he have any?" Wilson pulled some meat off the chicken carcass. "Here, you can feed him that." "And then you can help me take Nathan to bed. Do you want to?" Jada gestured towards Nathan in his highchair who was getting very drowsy indeed. "Oh yes!" "Off you go then! And then maybe..." "No, I'm NOT tired!" "We'll see about that." Wilson left her to it.

But actually no one stayed awake much longer; they'd all had a long day and after bidding their good-byes to the assembled Foremans and bungling Gina into bed - who fell asleep the moment she hit the pillow - House and Wilson shared out the leftovers of the wine out between them and then retired bedwards themselves. Wilson put on Neil Young on a low volume, harvest moon. It just seemed like that kind of night. Wilson smiled. "Nice to think they're cold and tired out there, isn't it?" "Just as long as they get cold and tired enough to catch pneumonia and die..." "Only they wouldn't." "Wouldn't what?" "Die if they caught pneumonia. They could come up and we'd have to help them." "Fine, I'll tell them all they have terminal cancer. You can prescribe the pointless meds. Got something nice and puke-inducing?" "And then they'll find out we were lying and sue our pants off." "Who cares, I'll have had my fun." "And will fly cattle class for the rest of your life after the pay-out." "Ok, point taken." They didn't even fly much these days, but House still liked being able to afford things like flat seats and sufficient legroom when they did. He sighed. "I wish I could hurt them..." "They're not hurting you, are they?" "Course not, duh!" But Wilson didn't seem to believe him, there was doubt in his eyes. Soon they drifted off to sleep.

House woke up, he didn't know how much later. All he knew was that the feeling in bad leg had nothing to do with Wilson feeling sexy this time. It was tingling and burning, and a throb was building up in the background. He grabbed for his painkillers in the dark but they weren't in their usual place on the nightstand. Oh great, the cleaner had tidied them away again. He had lost count of the times they'd both told her not to. The last time she had put them in the drawer right underneath, hadn't she? House tested that theory, but no such luck this time. He grabbed around the open shelf at the bottom. Two books, yesterday's paper, a dirty mug... No tablets. Fuck... In the mean time his thigh was beginning to feel like someone was running a hammer drill through it. He groaned slightly louder than the pain dictated to wake Wilson without making it seem deliberate. Thank goodness Wilson was used to being risen that way. "How bad is it?" "Unbearable in 30, 29, 28..." "Ok, ok..." Wilson got up. "Do you think there are some in the bathroom cabinet?" "Should be..." He was beginning to sweat; this was bad. It seemed like hours till Wilson came back with the tablets and a glass of bourbon to help them down. "You shouldn't really, but..." That gesture of love made House smile despite the pain. "Thanks!" He planted a kiss of Wilson's cheek and gulped down the lot. "And now for waiting..." House turned onto his back and folded his arms behind his head, he was expecting to lie awake for at least half an hour before the meds would kick in. "You're welcome." Wilson lay down in bed again, obviously lowering himself down as gently as he could. Seeing him go to such lengths to avoid causing him further pain made House feel sad for a moment. "Just crash down, you sissy! It hardly matters now, does it?" "Guess so." Wilson came closer and put his arms around House from behind. They were spooning. "That ok with you?" House didn't answer, just snuggled himself into that warm, reassuring body behind him. He felt Wilson's thick hair on his neck and his little paunch in the small of his back. There was warmth and compassion emanating from him. "I love you." House meant it from the bottom of his heart. Almost immediately the pain seemed more bearable as his body started to relax. As long as Wilson was standing between himself and the world out there House knew he was going to be fine.


	3. Ending a Mexican Standoff

The next morning it took House an extra two Voltaren on top of his usual merry pick'n'mix to bring the pain down to a tolerable level, it had gone down slightly from the nocturnal attack but was still worse than it had been for months. When he finally sat down for breakfast he was exhausted just from trying to keep his weight off the bad leg as far as possible. Wilson looked at him. "They are hurting you, aren't they?" "No they aren't!" "Yes they are, or give me a better explanation for that sudden pain surge." "It happens out of the blue every now and then and you know that!" "So... The last time it happened that was out of the blue, too, was it?" "No it wasn't, but that was a totally different thing. Are you trying to say that some nutjob being a nuisance about us would affect me the same way as you collapsing on the floor with a brain-haemorrhage?" "No I'm not. All I'm saying is that once again you're kidding yourself about what you're really feeling and using your thigh as a safety valve." "Oh, so now you've qualified in psychiatry, too, wow, you never cease to amaze me, Superdoc!" Wilson rolled his eyes. "Umm... Noooo... But several people who have qualified in psychiatry told you that a very long time ago, and it's true." "Whatever..." House felt another stab of pain going through his leg like a bolt of electricity and was pretty sure this debate wasn't going anywhere. "OW!" He couldn't help crying out, Henry had chosen exactly that moment to jump into his lap, landing square on the injury. Well if that was gonna be the pattern for the day... He clenched his teeth. And he was actually expected to leave the house later, fuck Gina's McDonald's fixation, make his way through that throng of hateful humanity outside the door, walk around to some extent, play the nice old uncle... He shuddered internally and tried to adopt an indifferent expression. It was absolutely nobody's business how he really felt about the people outside, least of all his own.

Gina was obviously a mind-reader. "We don't have to go to McDonald's if you don't want to." She looked sad saying it. He forced a smile. "Of course we're going. We can't let these guys win, can we?" Wilson looked up. "Ah, that's what this is about. You think you're letting them win by admitting they're making you feel like crap." He looked House straight in the eyes and took his hands. "Well, you don't have to admit it to them, ok?" "For the last time, Wilson, these people are not affecting me!" "Yes they are. They sure as hell are affecting me and I have a thicker skin than you. The last time I felt as sad and angry as this was when you overdosed on my Valium." House felt a weight lift of his shoulders: so he wasn't the only one? He pulled Wilson into a grateful hug. "Ok, yeah, it probably is because of them that my leg is acting up. But then what difference does it make?" "It might ease the pain to talk about it instead?" "It hasn't yet." "You might want to give it more than 45 seconds." And bantering away he indeed began to feel better, still not as good as the past few days, but at least able to focus on something else than the civil war in his leg. The smile he gave Gina this time was for real. "So when do you want to go?" "For lunch? Please?" "It's almost lunchtime now, you won't be able to get anything down then." They eventually agreed on a mid-afternoon outing and reheated a bowl of chicken soup from the freezer to make this a proper brunch.

Only when they actually did leave House almost immediately found himself reeling in the grasp of another attack. And the car was still parked fifty yards away from the day before, which definitely didn't help. The bastards seemed to be closing in on them, their hatred almost a physical presence. He tried to focus on Jack, their medical student neighbour from downstairs, walking up the road about twenty yards away instead, but it didn't help. He slowly moved forward, carefully trying to dodge the passive-aggressive shoves coming from all sides. "And the lord sayeth though shalt not lie with a man as with a woman..." The Reverend was preaching through a megaphone. House could feel something snap inside himself. He pushed his way through the crowd, newly energised, pulled the Reverend into a tight embrace and forced his tongue into his mouth. Done, he couldn't help but roar at him. "Right, now you've actually got something to complain about, asshole! And now sue me!" Everyone, including Wilson, Gina and Jack who had come close enough to follow the proceedings by now, was much too dazed by what they had just seen to say anything and he was able to make his way to the car laboriously but undisturbed.

Once installed in the driver's seat Wilson finally found his speech again. "Well done, House. Getting yourself busted for assault is exactly what we need right now."

When they got back from McDonald's officer McCarthy was already parked outside the House waiting for them. In fairness, he had managed to clear their parking space, but still... As the entire sidewalk was still thronged with chanting loons he obviously hadn't come to reprimand that side of the conflict. "May I come in with you?" He asked as soon as they had all got out of the car. "Of course..." Wilson did the talking for now: House was busy trying to find an excuse for his actions that wouldn't lead to a court case. Officer McCarthy just about waited till they'd closed the apartment door behind them before explaining why he'd come this time: "Some might regard that as not a very intelligent thing to do, Dr House." "Others might regard it as a very necessary thing to do. I broke up a Mexican stand-off." Wilson spluttered: "You broke up a Mexican stand-off? Are you gonna tell that to the judge? You know, that scary man in a black gown who'll try you for sexual assault?" "Sexual assault my ass! If anything I did him a favour, at least now he's got something tangible to complain about!" "Which is exactly what he did", officer McCarthy mentioned. "May I sit down?" "You can sit next to me, I like you!" Gina offered and officer McCarthy accepted. "Wow, that sure is a lot of ketchup on your T-shirt, where did you go?" "McDonald's, and I had a supersize double Big Mac meal with an XL chocolate shake!" She beamed with satisfaction. "So you like McDonald's?" "I LOVE McDonald's! And Mom and grandma never let me go!" She pouted. "So what else do you like?" "I like you. And my Mom and grandma and Grampa and Uncle Greg and my piano and waffles with strawberry jam and crawling into bed with Grampa and Uncle Greg in the morning and..." "You like crawling into bed with them?" "Uhu! We cuddle and Grampa is all soft and Uncle Greg is all scrubby, it's fun!" "And... When you cuddle, where do they touch you?" "What the..." Wilson was pretty indignant at that one. House calmed him down. "It's ok, we've nothing to hide." "Uncle Greg allowed me to touch his owee once." "And his owee is..." "Half the way up my right thigh. The scar looks pretty nasty. She was wondering what it felt like to touch, so I let her. Once. I nearly went through the ceiling." "Erm..." "With pain. Seven-year-olds and damaged nerve endings just don't go together." Gina hung her head at the memory. "I'm so sorry I hurt you..." "It's ok, I should have known better." House gave her an encouraging squeeze. "So you cuddle and your uncle let you touch his sore bit once." "Yes..." "And do they ever ask you to touch them in places where you don't want to, or touch you there?" "HEY!" Now Wilson was getting really pissed off. "If you're gonna investigate us for sexual child abuse just let us know right out, ok?" "What is sexual child abuse?" "Not something I ever want you to experience. And not something we do here!" "Wilson, shut up, he's only trying to do his job." "House! They're trying to do us in for fondling little girls here!" "No they're not, they're just dotting their i's and crossing their t's. Knowing the Reverend he alleged all kinds of interesting things about us." "That's exactly what he did. I'm so sorry, Dr Wilson, I understand this must be upsetting for both of you. But I really need to make sure we've got all the bases covered. The more wholesome your set-up here looks..." "It IS wholesome!" "...the more sure you can be this case is gonna get dismissed. Is that ok with you?" "I guess..."

"So there definitely will be a case." "Oh yes. Your neighbour insisted on pressing charges. I tried to reason with him but then I guess if he was susceptible to reason none of this would have happened in the first place." "Good point." House went to get more coffee, and to give the cop a chance to get back to the matter at hand. "So do they touch you in a way you don't want to be touched sometimes?" "Well..." Gina thought. "Grampa tickles me sometimes. And he'll keep going even when I tell him to stop." "But you always laugh anyway!" Wilson winked. He had obviously calmed down now and poked her under the armpits. Gina shrieked. "STOP!" But she was giggling her little butt off at the same time. "And that's all they do when they touch you." "Yes." "Ok, you've been really great. And you'll probably be able to help your uncle in a couple of weeks, too. Do you want that?" "She helps me all the time anyway, that's one of the perks of having a pathetic old cripple for an uncle." House set the cups down on the table and sat down again. "Well yes, I guess so. But she isn't usually able to help to keep the pathetic old cripple out of jail, is she?" "Jail? C'mon, I kissed him, I didn't slice his balls off!" Wilson grinned. "Bet as far as he's concerned that is exactly what you did?" They both laughed, but Gina looked confused. "Why would anyone go to jail for kissing someone? Kissing is nice!" "It isn't when you don't want to be kissed. And it certainly isn't if you think the person kissing you anyway is the spawn of the devil." House and Wilson both nodded, there was nothing to add to that. "And that's what the Reverend thinks?" "That's what he thinks, and that's why he wants your uncle to go to jail. There'll be a court case, and you'll have to stand up and tell the judge everything you've seen going on down there this weekend." "Like... How horrible they are?" "That's for the judge to decide. You just tell the facts, like how they tried to shove him over and how they called your Grampa names, ok?" "Ok!" Gina was very excited now. "Can I tell Mom about that? Please? Can I call her?" "You'll have to actually, cos you'll need her consent to be a witness. You're underage." Gina shot off to the study to call Rachel and get her ok.

Officer McCarthy asked another couple of questions and gave them an encouraging smile before he left. "Off the record, I really hope this will turn out ok for you guys. That so-called Reverend is a godalmighty creep." "Thanks!" The cop let himself out and House stretched out on the sofa with a relieved sigh. "Nice cop, makes a good change from Tritter." Wilson laughed. "You're still not over him?" "Neither should you be, he nearly ruined your life, for God's sake!" "No he didn't, you did, being stupid and stubborn as ever." House adopted his hang-dog expression. "Sorry, Uncle Jimmy..." They hugged, all that had been a very long time ago. And it had probably brought them closer together. "Still, that McCarthy guy was obnoxious in his own way. I ask you! Do we look like child abusers?" "Did my Dad?" "He didn't fondle you, did he?" "No, the ice baths were quite sufficient, thank you very much. Anyway... It's good he asked these questions; I'd be a very different person if they'd taken child abuse as seriously as that when I was seven." "Ok..." Wilson seemed satisfied with that explanation. "And now for waiting for the court summons, you stupid jerk!" "I'll find myself a good lawyer in the morning." Gina shot back into the room, glowing with pride. "Mom lets me be a witness. AND I can wear my nice blue dress! AND she says the Reverend is an idiot and more people should force-french him in public!" House grinned and poked out his tongue at Wilson. "Thanks a bunch, Rachel..." Wilson mumbled, rolling his eyes. "Tonight I will need a Valium, my first one in months." "I'll sing you a lullaby..." "Is that a euphemism?" "How dare you, in the presence of an innocent child?" The innocent child, being indeed innocent, followed the conversation as if she was watching a tennis match. "What are you talking about?" "Silly grown-up talk. You want to show me what you've learned on the piano this week?" "Oh yes!" And for a small kid who'd had less than six months of lessons yet it sounded quite impressive.


	4. Everybody must get stoned

On Monday, when they came back from dropping Gina off to school, the picket was gone, just as they had expected. Only of course it had left its traces, in the shape of the court case now hanging over their heads. Wilson would be witness for the defence, right? "Of course I'll be. But I still fucking well wish you hadn't done that!" "Naw, it was the right thing. And which judge with a heart will jail an elderly cripple, huh?" "And who said the guy in charge of your trial will have one?" House looked at Wilson and turned up his eyes to eleven. "Ever met someone who didn't grow one faced with that?" "Tritter?" "Fine, Tritter, but he won't be in charge of that court, so there." "Um, I hate to say it, House, but that's a faulty syllogism you've got going there. Good for diagnostic epiphanies, bad for predicting the outcome of court cases." "It'll be FINE!" "Well, I'll bake you a cake with a file in anyway, just in case. And talking about cake..." He took a chunk of pecan pie from the fridge that had obviously passed its best before date sometime around the year House had run his last marathon and chucked it into the garbage. "Your turn to take the trash out!" "Fine..." House went out with a much more pained expression than strictly necessary. He was just about to turn towards the courtyard where the dumpsters stood when he ran into Jack, who seemed delighted to see him. "Wow, that was cool of you, dude!" "Will you tell Wilson that? He's treating me like a naughty three-year-old for it." "Balls, that really rocked, it was about time someone did that to the Reverend!" "Hm yeah, agreed, only now he's gonna sue." "What? No way!" "Way! What did you expect?" Some of the delight went out of Jack's face. "Holy shit! Well, if you need a witness for the defence, anything, any favour..." "Thanks!", House smiled. "Favour... Favour... Got a lid?" Jack's jaw dropped. "I'm serious, this is the time to get stoned. There's no age limit on it, y'know..." "Wow... Guess not. I've got some white widow if that's ok with you." "Mmmmmm! Enough for brownies?" "About fifty bucks worth." "Twenty will do." He fumbled the money out of his jeans pocket and followed Jack into the apartment he shared with Matty, another medical student, trash bag still in hand. The deal went ahead. "Thanks, I owe you." Then he brought the trash out and went back upstairs in a rather elated mood. "Wilson! Get the oven on! We're having brownies!" "Are we?" "Yep!" He threw the freezer bag of suspect plant matter on the kitchen table. "You bet your sweet Jewish ass we are!" Wilson was less than enthusiastic about the idea. "Wonderful! Not only are you getting yourself busted for sexual assault, you're gonna top it off with possession! If that's your latest self-destructive spiral, just let me know so I can get out of the way of the shrapnel!" "It's not a self-destructive spiral, it's just a fervent desire to get stoned. For real. Not two more Marinol than my prescription stoned, but Big Lebowski whoa shiny hey I'm hungry let's go to White Castle stoned. We both deserve that right now. And I want to see the cop who arrests an oncologist and a pain patient with a Marinol prescription for possession." "Hm yeah, good point..." They made the brownies and spent a glorious may day inside with popcorn, stoner movies and musing about the deeper significance of the fact that House kept imagining Kumar setting patients alight with defib paddles. Indeed, they finished the day at White Castle with delighted grins. "It was never that much fun in college..." Wilson mused. "Of course it wasn't. Back then you were sort of expected to do it. Now we're really being naughty." "Onto the naughty step with you, Gregory! You're a bad influence!" They laughed and kissed. "And, by the way, you were right, we deserved that." "See? Told you. And I think I just realised where that Kumar thing came from." "The one with the defib paddles?" "Yep! Remember Kutner?" "Of course... Yeah... He did kinda look like Kumar." House nodded. "He did. And this is the first time since he died I've actually managed to think of him and laugh." Wilson hugged him. "That's good. And I think it's the way he'd want to be remembered." "Uhu..." That night they went to bed feeling young and in love.


	5. A mental Health Emergency

House and Wilson had fallen asleep pretty much on top of each other and were huddled up that way when they were rudely awakened by 9 pounds of cat bomb plunging down on them. "Meow!" "Mrrrmmm... Oh, look who wants breakfast!" "Aw shit, he won't starve if we take a couple more minutes." "Mhmmm..." They slightly shifted position, into each others arms. House kissed Wilson on the neck, where he knew he liked it best. "Whoaaaa, the stubble... Do that again!" They were both basking in the warm glow of the comedown now and every touch felt like a beautiful earthquake. "Mreeooooow!" "Ah shut up, Henry, daddy and uncle Jimmy have more important things to do right now!" Another stubbly kiss right on Wilson's jugular. "And now I'll bite you and suck your blood..." "As long as you wash the sheets afterwards..." "Are you sure vampires take pride in their bed linen?" "Well, this one does! Or in his coffin linen I guess." "MAOOO!" House rolled his eyes and shoved Henry onto the floor. "You go on like that and there'll be no canned tuna for you for a week! Where were we?" "I think I was just about to do..." Wilson gently ran his fingers along House's spine, raising every little follicle on his back one by one and finished by kneading his buttcheeks. "...this." House reciprocated and they ended up practically tied in a knot, gently petting and kissing each other until they both climaxed almost simultaneously. House smiled. "Girly vanilla sex, we're getting old." "So what? If getting old feels as good as this I'll happily live to ninety." "True, yeah..." They kissed again. House was feeling fantastic, the little soma holiday had been exactly what they had needed. Even his leg had quietened down again, almost to the point where he felt he could put real weight on it. Still, he wasn't sure if that was because he was actually better, or just the tons of THC still coursing through his system, so he took his full compliment of painkillers anyway, just in case. "Hey, thanks for getting the grass!" Wilson was looking sincerely happy and grateful. "You're welcome!" "Meow..." Henry jumped back onto the bed, giving them a sorrowful look. "Ok ok, buddy, you ARE getting your breakfast."

House got up and limped to the kitchen with the closest thing he could muster to a spring in his step, putting on a homemade Smiths compilation on the way. "And if a ten-ton truck kills the both of us, to die by your side, well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine..." He sang along with Morrissey. "And mine. But are you sure there's not a more life-affirming way of saying that?" "How? It's about dying!" "Now you come to mention it..." Wilson went quiet, obviously to sort his dope-addled thoughts into separate little paper bags before embarking on conversation again. "Meow?" House took am open can of tuna and set it on the floor for Henry. "There you go, Mr Nuisance, enjoy!" He gave his arched back a rub, which was received with enthusiastic purring, and went to make coffee, making sure to add some nutmeg partly for flavour and partly to extend the comedown, he was enjoying it too much to just let it go. "Are you getting up? Coffee's ready!" Wilson went down to get the paper from the mailbox in his bathrobe and then fried a couple of quick and dirty pancakes and bacon strips. Finally, between coffee, maple syrup and current affairs, they psyched themselves up for the day ahead, hoping the emotional high they were both still on would carry them through attending to all the annoying, difficult real life stuff they had managed to conveniently ignore the day before. Just the story about the mid-terms now... "Mao!" "Yes, you're a very attractive cat, Henry, but now daddy is trying to read the paper!" How the hell was it possible for an animal under a foot high to obscure the entire New York Times? He shoved him off the table. "Meow!" There he was again, arching his back to the point that it obscured even the headline on the top of the page and trying to muzzle House's face. "Look, buddy, there's still a strip of bacon in the pan that you can eat!" Henry threw the pan a disinterested look and turned his attention to House and the paper again. "GRAH!" He chucked him down again. Wilson chuckled. "Maybe he's trying to tell you something?" "Like what?" "That there are real life matters waiting to be attended to?" "Ah, fuck real life!" But the next time Henry jumped onto the kitchen table, House slung him around his neck, where he purringly remained, and relocated to the study to take care of matters that were currently more pressing than the elections he didn't vote in anyway.

Voicemail first. A long message from Rachel, essentially wetting herself about the kiss incident, and asking them to remind her in good time about officially consenting to Gina giving testimony. Then Cuddy, expressing her deep regret she couldn't give him clinic duty any more and suggesting Stacy might know about a good lawyer. Finally Danny, as yet unaware of the weekend's events and sounding nervous. The neighbours were ganging up on him, could he come to stay for a couple of days. Oh God, not know. House loved having him to stay, especially since Wilson had managed to accept him as his brother again, but right now there were definitely having their own neighbour troubles, and there was no telling anyway how much of Danny's problem was for real and how much of it was happening in his own head. Shit... They'd have to do something to help him calm down at any rate. "Wilson, Danny's having neighbour trouble!" "For real, or..." "No idea, maybe you should call him and find out. He wants to come over for a couple of days." "Talk about bad timing..." Real life was catching up with them again far too quickly, meh! Wilson made the call without putting the phone on speaker, so House could only hear one half of the conversation. "Hi, what is it about your neighbours? ... Are you sure? ... I don't think he meant it that way to be honest." Wilson was beginning to look concerned. "Yeah, I know neighbours can be a pain in the ass. The Reverend was all weekend. ... What? ... Please, it'll be ok ... Yes ... Promise ... Honestly ... Yes ... As soon as I can ... Yes ... Now, let me just pack my toothbrush ... Well I can't while I'm still talking to you, can I? ... Yeah ... I'll be on the cell ... Yeah ... Of course... Ok, bye..." Wilson put down the phone, looking very very worried. "We gotta go to New York. Now!" "That bad?" "That bad! And I still don't know if there's any real neighbour trouble involved. All I know is I haven't heard him that upset in a very long time." House knew it was pointless to mention his legal issues now, or to try and calm Wilson down; he wouldn't stop hyperventilating till he found Danny safe and sound and medicated in his apartment where he should be. That one time he had put down the phone on him over fifty years ago had put paid to that forever. He decided to take a notepad along and sort as much stuff as possible in the two hours on the road. He scribbled a post-it to Mrs. Kaminski and stuck it to her door. She'd make a good witness for the defence. "Please call me on the cell! Thanks, Gregory." Within 15 minutes they were showered, packed and in the car, ready to go.

They raced through the little towns on the way to I 95, leaving Heathcote at 90 mph and... Saw lights flashing behind them. Wilson pulled in and banged his head on the steering wheel in despair. "Wow, that's quite some speed for gentlemen of your age", the cop stated. "How fast do you think you were going?" Wilson groaned. "No idea, officer, I'm not quite myself right now." "Look, we're doctors and this is an emergency", House growled. "Must be quite some emergency for RETIRED doctors to travel at warp seven. Can I see your driver's licence?" Wilson handed over his driver's licence and flashed his medical licence, too. "Says here you're an oncologist. Did a marrow transplant go wrong?" "Right, ok, officer, sorry for my friend trying to con you, it's just what he does. Yes, we ARE doctors, but this a mental health emergency. My brother is schizophrenic, he's on his own in his apartment in Queens, he's having an acute psychotic episode RIGHT NOW and for all I know he could be setting the house on fire as we're speaking." The cop gulped. That obviously sounded bizarre enough to be true - which of course it was. "Off you go, guys, crossing my fingers everything will be ok!" "Thanks..." Wilson managed a smile and they raced off, zero to sixty in a negative amount of time.

House tried to concentrate on getting witnesses together for what might well amount to a sexual assault trial. "Foreman... Thank God you're there! Remember the little picket outside our door on Saturday?" "Of course I do, why?" "Cos I'll be up in court because of it in a couple of weeks and I need you as a witness for the defence." Foreman heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Right, what did you do now?" "I got extremely pissy with the Reverend on Sunday when we were trying to take Gina to McDonald's and they were trying to block our way again, so I went over and force-frenched him. Thought I might as well give the asshole something tangible to complain about." "Which he duly did." "Exactly, and now he's gonna sue. For harassment or assault or God knows what. Anyway, that's why I need you. Just say what you saw on Saturday and I might get off with the excuse of righteous anger." Another sigh. "Fine, count me in... Kicking and screaming..." House grinned. "Aw, you poor thing!" "Careful or you can find yourself someone else..." "Wilson's gonna make macadamia nut pancakes for everyone if the case is dismissed." "I'm WHAT? Leave me out of that, I have real worries to attend to right now!" "So the idea that your beloved little one might spend the rest of his sad, miserable, pain-ridden life in a rat-infested cell is not a real worry?" House gave Wilson his big-eyed pathetic one. "Ok, I think this is no longer for me. Let me know when you need me." Foreman put down the phone. "It might start being one once I know my beloved little brother will not spend the rest of his weird, freaked-out, paranoid life in a padded cell, ok? Until then you're on your own with that." "Fiiiiiiiiine..." The cell rang, Mrs Kaminski. "Gregory, what the hell is going on? What was one hurried note you left me there. And where are you anyway? It's not like you to rush out of the house on a Tuesday morning." "We're on our way to New York, Danny's not well." "Danny?" "My brother-in-law, I thought you'd met him?" "Oh yeah, I remember. Say hi." "I will if he's well enough to process it. Anyway, in the mean time I need to talk to you." "Ok, so what's up?" "Could you repeat all the stuff you told the cop about us and the Reverend under oath in court?" "Errrrr... Why?" "Because I got kinda pissy on Sunday and force-frenched hm." "You WHAT?" She spent the next five minutes laughing. "Good call!" "Totally, only now he's gonna sue." "OUCH! Yeah, that's fine, it's about time someone stood up to him. Good luck with Danny, I hope he'll be ok!" "Thanks!" House put down the phone. Phew, at least that was going well.

House had just got Stacy's promise to look up a couple of good lawyers when Wilson's cell rang. There was no need to guess who was at the other end. "Yes ... I'm on my way ... On the 95 ... Yes ... Just past Woodbridge ... Look, we already got speed-trapped once ... Of course he is ... Yes ... Just over an hour, promise ... Bye!" For a split second after putting the phone down Wilson looked every minute of his age. He didn't look like a guy in his seventies most of the time, with his big mop of hair and boyish features, but right now he looked pale and harassed, and the fine expression lines in his face seemed like geological processes had put them there. House knew he wasn't worried Danny might burn the House down. He was worried by the time they'd get there Danny might be gone. House imagined the nightmare replaying in his head. He wordlessly handed him two Valium. Wilson shoved them away. "Not now!" "Yes now, there's no point in you getting there as a total mental wreck. You'll freak him out even more." "He won't be there anyway. He's probably gone already. I don't know why the hell I'm doing this." "Because he's your brother and you don't want to live through this whole nightmare all over again." "But I am!" "Only in your head. For all you know he's save and sound on his sofa." "Yeah, right!" "Take this, you're no use to me OR Danny with a heart-attack!" "Right now I'm no use to anyone when I'm doped-up and drowsy!" "Hey, look, deer ahead!" Using the distraction he had created House shoved 4 milligrams of calm into Wilson's mouth. "HEY!" But he had already swallowed them. "You fucking bastard! I need my wits about me!" "You'll be grateful in the end, believe me." "So essentially you think he'll be gone, too." "No I don't. I think he'll be there, in a total state, and he'll need his big brother to exude calm." Wilson's cell rang again. "Yeah ... I can see the planes approaching Newark in the distance ... Under an hour now ... Just stay calm, ok? ... Yes... I'll always protect my little brother, of course I will ... Yes... Bye!" "See?" "Still nearly an hour to go. He'll be gone." There were tears in Wilson's eyes now. "Wilson! Pull in and let me drive! This is insane!" "Funny, you talking about insanity!" "That's not the point, you'll kill us both if you go on driving in that state!" "No time!" "Fine, I gotta piss. Will you pull in or will I let go right here on the nice new pork leather seats?" Wilson roared with frustration and pulled in. House didn't bother with canes or walkers, supporting himself on the hood he limped around to the driver's door, shoved Wilson across the centre console into the passenger seat, got in behind the wheel, slammed the door and drove off. "Belt up like a good boy!" Wilson did, all the fight seemed to have gone out of him. He sat slumped down in the passenger seat looking sad and pathetic. "I'm scared, House." He finally admitted; obviously the Valium was beginning to kick in. "What if he IS gone when we get there?" "He won't be. Was he anywhere near as upset on the phone as that night?" "No..." "Then it'll be ok. And it's only just over half an hour to go now." Wilson looked up and seemed to notice for the first time that they had just come through Lincoln Tunnel and where heading into midtown Manhattan.

Half an hour later they pulled up outside Danny's apartment building just off Parsons Boulevard. It seemed to take forever for the elevator to come. Phew, Danny hadn't locked his door. They burst into his apartment. There he was, sitting on the sofa, with a haunted look in his eyes. "Thank goodness you're here", he said. "The new guy downstairs is trying to kill me."

Oh dear... Well, some of that was bound to be in his own head, right? House's rich experience of life, good, bad and largely indifferent, had not yet provided him with an apartment building that housed two crazies at the same time, and why on earth would a person in their right mind kill want to Daniel Wilson? He sat down with Danny, while Wilson went to look around for anything physical that might have triggered this attack. There was no point in trying to lift Danny out of it right now, so for the moment he just decided to go with the flow. "How do you know?" "The way he looked at me on Sunday night." "So which way was that?" "Nasty... Like he hated me more than anything he'd ever seen. He wants to kill me, I know it!" "Just tell me how all that happened, ok?" "Well... I'd been out with Joe Dusky..." House wondered if that guy might have anything to do with. He was a friend from the neighbourhood they hadn't met yet, but who Danny was seemingly quite fond of. "We went down to Ida's..." The bar on the corner, House liked that place, too. "...had a couple of beers. I like Ida's on Sundays, it's quiet then." "What happened then?" "You believe me, right? I know you don't sometimes!" "Of course I do..." "Right... Cos I'm fine, honestly, I'm perfect!" "Ok..." "We were still talking at closing time, so we went up here together for a nightcap. Then I brought him down to the door, you know how it's usually locked after eleven." "Yeah..." "And we were talking and laughing. And then that new guy in the apartment downstairs left, he opened his door and looked at me and..." Danny shuddered. "There was murder in his eyes. He wants me dead, I swear." House couldn't help himself. "But why do you think he wants you dead?" Danny shrugged. "How would I know? Plenty of good reasons to send a mad old Jew to sleep with the fishes for some people." He was undoubtedly right there, these some people had been around since the beginning of time and probably always would be. For the moment House wasn't sure what was worse, the idea that there was indeed a homicidal Nazi living downstairs, or the idea that his brother-in-law was more delusional than he'd ever seen him. He felt slightly creeped put by the utter normality of the surroundings, a bit of chaos would have been so much more fitting with the situation. But life wasn't doing him that favour. The place was as clean and tidy as ever, the current issue of the New Yorker open on the coffee table. Looking into the kitchen he could see a couple of empty beer cans next to the sink. Hm, so there were the culprits? They looked like they might have been there for a couple of days. Wilson came out of the bedroom and they talked in low voices. "It was the beer, wasn't it?" "What the hell are you talking about? You're keeping things from me!" "No we're not!" House was the only person Danny always seemed to trust and he was even more glad of that than usual right now. "I guess that must have triggered it, yeah..." They were about to decide what to do when the door opened and a stranger came in, a short-ish, stocky guy who looked like he'd absorbed a fair few knocks in life. "Hi Dan, you coming for lunch?" "I don't like you anymore, you didn't stand up for me. Go away!" Danny seemed pissy at him. "What?" The man looked confused. "Dan, what's going on?" "Just go!" "Dan... Hey, who are you?" Wilson took over. "Jimmy Wilson, I'm Danny's brother." "Oh, hi! Joe Demsky! You must be Greg House then, Dan talks a lot about you guys." He seemed delighted to meet them and they shook hands. "Go away!" Danny seemed desperate to have Joe out of the apartment now. Wilson took him outside to explain and ask a couple of questions.

The information he brought back with him made things a little clearer. The two had indeed been out for drinks on Sunday, and that neighbour had indeed come out, probably to check what the noise was about. He had seemed annoyed alright, but no exactly murderous. Well, at least they had some idea what was going on now. "Do you think that guy downstairs would follow you places?" House did his best to be understanding. "No... He'll go out to work soon. He'll only be back late tonight." "So Do you want to go out with us?" "Yes... But... You're not gonna take me to the hospital, are you? I'm fine! I really am!" "No we're not, we'll just hang out together and enjoy ourselves, ok?" "Ok..." Wilson agreed with that idea. They might actually have a good time that way, and it might help Danny onto the road to recovery, too, by way of feeding his intellect. House, from painful experience, had developed his own little theory about mental illness which basically said when the cat is away the mice will play. If his frontal lobe didn't get its daily brain chow all sorts of strange things happened to him, and Danny was probably brighter than himself and Wilson put together. Wilson called a cab into Manhattan and they were going to embark on an intellectual feeding tour. Only... Danny wouldn't use the elevator, and as of Christmas Wilson, too, had joined the no stairs please brigade. "He's pumping cyanide into it through the grill, I know it!" He insisted. "For fuck's sake", House muttered under his breath. "It says elevator on the sign, not showers." Still, he had to try and stay constructive. "But do you really think he'd do it now, when he's just about to leave for work, and with us here, too? He wouldn't want witnesses, would he?" Danny thought for a moment and then conceded. "No, probably not." He looked tense in the elevator, holding his breath anyway, but at least he came down with them. When they were finally on the way out, however, the door ground floor left opened and it turned out the neighbour Danny was so suspicious off was just about to leave, too. "You bastard!" Danny roared at him. "I'll get you one day!" The neighbour looked at the three of them. "You won't wanna hang out with him too much, guys." He said. "He's fucking ready for the funhouse!" Hm... Murderous he might not be, but obviously there was at least some real life trigger for Danny's delusions.

Still, they had a good enough time slouching about in Manhattan, discussing German expressionists at the Guggenheim, people-watching in Central Park, looking at the way all their ancestors had probably started off in the states in the Tenement Museum on the lower east side, the whole New York better class of tourist thing that for some reason was always fun anyway, despite being a cliché. And they talked higher things, far far away from the humdrum of their daily lives and into deep space - literally, because Danny had recently developed an interest in M-theory and happily lectured them about it all the way from the Christopher Columbus statue to the Tavern on the Green and through an absurdly expensive and silly but very enjoyable late lunch. Neither House or Wilson understood much of it, but then that was an off-shoot of quantum theory and it seemed to do Danny good to kick the higher parts of his brain into overdrive.

By the time they got back to his apartment in the evening Danny had certainly relaxed a lot and they were almost sure he wouldn't need to go to hospital, but he was still worried that if left alone there he wouldn't survive the night. "Can I come along with you guys?" He asked, looking like a frightened child. "I know I'll be safe there." Actually they had more or less hoped he'd say that, he wasn't well enough to be on his own, he wasn't bad enough to go to hospital, and he obviously didn't trust anyone else right now. What he needed was a couple of quiet days with people who loved him. He packed his bag smilingly and walked into the elevator without hesitation now.

Still, once in the car it took Danny a while to relax properly, he sat with hunched shoulders till they were way past Jersey City and still heading south, away from any possible hospital and definitely towards Princeton. This time Wilson made an effort to get through to him. "Why did you kick out Joe Demsky? I thought he was your friend." "Not anymore." "Why? What did he do?" "He didn't stand up for me, you heard me this morning." "But when did that happen? And how?" "When that guy had a go at me, he just said good night and left." "Had a go at you?" "Yeah, like... The hatred in his eyes and all, it was like he was having a go at me. Joe should have said something, or done something, I don't know. He shouldn't just have left me there, at that guy's mercy." Hm, here was a chance to go in. Wilson seemed to feel the same. "Maybe the situation looked different to Joe?" "How could it have looked any different? It was so obvious!" "Maybe the guy was just looking out to see what the noise was about, and that's why Joe left just like that..." "Oh great, now my own brother is letting me down! Greg, you believe me, right?" "I do." And in a way he did. That had been the way it had looked to Danny at the time, it was his truth, just like it had been his own truth about sleeping with Cuddy that one night.

House pulled in at a 7-Eleven. "We better stock up on something non-alcoholic, my liver's been feeling like Foié Gras ever since Sunday morning." He exchanged a look with Wilson. Danny was a considerate guy, he wouldn't want to drink at people who couldn't themselves. And, truth be told, House had been feeling less queasy in his life. The brothers went in and got Mountain Dew and unleaded beer, the imported stuff that actually tasted of something. House stayed in the car listening to Ian Dury. "Hello to you out there in normal land, you may not comprehend my tale or understand..." What was normal land anyway? And where? Pretty fucking far away from where he was sitting right now obviously. And if normal land was the place where people like the Reverend or Danny's downstairs neighbour lived he was perfectly happy to stay in freak land anyway. "Spasticus, spasticus, spasticus autisticus..." He sang along, much to the surprise of a couple of high school kids who had just pulled in next to him and had obviously never seen anyone of his age doing that, let alone with such lyrics. He heard the clunk of six packs being dumped into the trunk behind him and the hatch being closed. The two got back into the car and they drove on.

Back home, they continued the day much the way it had started. Wilsons one and two settled down for a game of chess and House blew the dust of a volume of romantic piano works he hadn't played in a long time. Some of Schumann's Kinderszenen were in there, some Mendelsohn, some Chopin - it was beautiful, soothing music, a version of normal land he could just about feel at home in, maybe because Schumann in particular had been such a freak himself. He took a sip of the unleaded beer and played Träumerei, almost at half speed, lingering over the chord changes and drinking in their beauty. Every now and then he paused and looked across at the other two, lost to the world in their game. They were pretty evenly matched, despite their diametrically opposed playing styles, one shooting from the hip, instinctively finding the right thing to do in his heart, the other one constantly analysing, thinking, calculating three moves ahead, and finally making his move like he had just solved a differential equation. Danny captured Wilson's knight, taking dominance for the moment. "I wish I could do that to the guy downstairs." He muttered. Wilson tensed up immediately. "Do what?" "Remove him from the scene. Before he removes me." House listened in fascination. Having psychosis was a pain in ass, as it was with most diseases, but looking at it, again as with most diseases, was a trip. How the hell was it possible for someone to simultaneously make the sane, rational, logical decisions it took to dominate a game of chess and yet be absolutely convinced against all evidence that an almost stranger who he had met once for ten seconds was out to whack him for no good reason at all? Funny thing, the human brain, from what he had been through himself to the collective psychosis of religion. He listened to Wilson trying to talk something resembling sense into his brother. "Listen, Danny, don't do anything you'll regret in the end!" "Oh don't worry, I won't. I just wish I could. But..." He chuckled. "The guy is about twice my weight if nothing else." That was true. Danny's weight seemed to fluctuate with the meds he was on at any one time and at the moment he was rake thin. They returned to their game and House returned to his sheet music, Mendelssohn's Variations Sérieuses this time. He jazzed them up a bit, why not if the guy had written them as variations anyway?


	6. It's all a bit too much for Wilson

The next morning House woke up feeling like he'd been pulped into sausage meat. "Oooowwww..." He groaned. Wilson looked worried. "Is it bad?" "Not really. Well, not in that way. I just totally overdid it yesterday." "I WAS wondering why you never even asked to sit down all the way through Central Park." "I had enough THC in my system to keep an army painfree, duh!" Wilson nodded. "That would explain it." House slowly, painfully got up. "I'm not going anywhere today. I'll sit down by the window, make a couple of phone calls to find myself a lawyer, and not move till I absolutely have to." "Ok..." But he still made the coffee, that was important to him; decaf this morning, no stimulants for the patient. Wilson joined him in the kitchen waiting for Danny to vacate the bathroom. Sometimes it was annoying to have just one of them, it was enough for two people, but when they had guests things got a bit crowded. Wilson put his arm around House. "You sit down by the window now so you won't have to move again, we can all have breakfast there, ok? I don't want you in more pain than you are already." House nodded, feeling grateful "Thanks!" "You deserve it, you've been absolutely incredible the past few days. I didn't think I'd ever say that, but yesterday you kept me sane." "...against all probability." They kissed. "Greg and Jimmy sitting in a tree... Morning! Any coffee to be had?" Danny was showered, shaved and shiny, but obviously hadn't slept a wink, he was looking pale, with huge rings under his eyes. "There you go!" Wilson handed him a mug. "And you can help me make breakfast. Lay the table on top of the piano I guess." House would usually have protested, but as it was to do him a favour he quietly took his own mug of coffee and went out.

After breakfast the two younger men went for a good trawl through the bookstores and House stayed behind, armed with the phone, the notepad and the thermos. Fuck that, he really had to start finding himself a lawyer now. First name from Stacy's list... "Chiltern, Hodgkin and Goldman, Patricia speaking, how may I help you?" "Hi Patricia, I need to talk to Clark Hodgkin! You can tell him I'm an old friend of Stacy Warner's." "And your name, sir?" "Greg House, but that won't mean anything to him. Just mention Stacy!" After most of Bach's collected works as interpreted by the Nintendo orchestra, a gruff male voice answered. "Clark Hodgkin, who's speaking?" "Greg House, I'm an old friend of Stacy Warner's..." "Does Stacy know that?" "Does Stacy know you're an ass?" Click - so much about that. Nice name for a jerk still, Hodgkin as in lymphatic cancer. He made a mental note to tell Wilson about it. Next number. The receptionist sounded about twelve years old. "Johnson and O'Donnell, my name is Tiffany, can I be of assistance?" Ouch, Tiffany! And did she really have to choose a word with three s-sounds with that lisp? "Hi, can I talk to Jane O'Donnell? My name is Greg House, Stacy Warner recommended her to me." "Just a moment." More musical crimes against humanity, anonymous this time. House found himself wondering what had to happen to a musician to sink to that and decided he had got pretty lucky in life all in all. "Jane O'Donnell, how may I help you?" "Hi Jane, my name is Greg House. I'm an old friend of Stacy Warner's and I might have a nice little fun case for you." Attorney O'Donnell chuckled. "I was actually talking to Stacy on the phone last night and she told me about your nice little fun case. Hate to say it, but the wine nearly came back through my nose. I'd love to do it, but I'll still be tied up for the next couple of weeks with an unfair dismissal case. Multinational firing a factory worker after 30 years for blowing the whistle on unsafe manufacturing practices. I'm reckoning at least another month because they'll get in all the power of Park Avenue against her." "Ouch, good luck with that!" "Thanks, and good luck with your case." Two down, one to go, then the yellow pages. Shame, she had sounded like fun to work with. Oh well, here was for number 3. The name of the firm made him feel like a mobster from a Scorsese movie. A male voice this time, not quite straight. "Gimignano and Hughes, attorneys at law, good morning!" "Morning, I'm looking for Adrian Gimignano!" "Speaking, what can I do for you?" Huh? No receptionist? But then maybe she was out getting cappuccinos. Or negotiating a promotion with Hughes. "Hi, nice talking to you. My name is Greg House. I'm an old friend of Stacy Warner's and I have a nice little open and shut case for you." "Well, we'll see if it's open and shut. What is it about?" Certain he'd find an open ear with that guy, House told the whole story, from the first you-will-die-a-slow-horrible-death-and-be-fried-crisp-in-the-afterlife pamphlet three years ago to the fatal kiss on Sunday. "Sooooo... Based on the kiss he's now gonna sue, right?" "Exactly. And I very much want the case dismissed." "Understandably so... Well, I guess we could go down the righteous anger route. Would you be able to come and see me later this week?" Now there was a good one, he might be able to tomorrow, he might not be able to for the rest of the week. "I'm not sure to be honest, we're having someone staying. As things stand, I haven't even received the summons yet. How about we touch base when I know more?" "Yeah, that's fine. Looking forward to talking to you again!" "Ok, bye!"

Well, that had been easier than it would have seemed, right? House poured himself another coffee and wondered if there was anything on TV that made it worthwhile to get the remote all the way from the coffee table. He decided there wasn't and turned his attention to the street, where, much to his surprise, Danny and Wilson were just getting out of the car. He hadn't really expected them back till lunchtime. Three minutes later the two walked into the apartment, one looking shaken and upset, the other simply furious. Danny went straight for the study and banged the door behind him. "What happened? I wasn't expecting you back for hours!" Wilson was fuming. "We. Were. Thrown. Out. Of. The. Fucking. Bookshop!" "What? Why?" "There was a guy there who looked like Danny's downstairs neighbour, so he got a bit agitated..." Wilson didn't need to continue, House could imagine the rest. Store assistant asking Danny to calm down, of course not succeeding, Wilson trying to explain, of course also not succeeding, store assistant telling them the noise was creating a nuisance for the other customers, Wilson letting his over-protective side get the better of him once again and yelling at the store assistant... Bang! Wilson was now beginning to look upset himself. House pulled him down so they were eye to eye and hugged him. "Just forget that place... And the good news is, I found myself a lawyer. I suggest we go and see the guy as soon as Danny is well enough to go home." Wilson managed a smile. "That is good news. I'm just... Worried, y'know. God knows what that's done to his head." "Probably nothing. Let's face it, he can't really get any more delusional." "Oh yes, he can..." But then the study door opened and Danny came back in, looking reasonably calm and composed again. "They were jerks at the bookstore, weren't they? I mean, I had every reason to be scared of that guy!" "Yeah..." Wilson's shoulders seemed to fall at least four inches. Danny put on the TV and flicked through a couple of channels. "Hey, Jimmy! Look what's on!" Oh God... It was sitcom nostalgia time. Wilson joined his brother on the sofa and soon the two were laughing their butts off. House had long forgotten the name of that show but he remembered Wilson had been fond of it back in the day. "Could that be anymore obvious?" The bland-looking sarcastic guy was saying. "Of course she loves you!" "But..." The geeky Jewish guy with the three ex-wives spent the next ten minutes whining about how much his life sucked. Now how exactly did that seem familiar?

Ah, that's how it seemed familiar... Later that afternoon, Wilson was being an absolute pain in the ass while getting ready for his monthly volunteer cancer clinic, about half an inch short of hiring a baby-sitter for the two or three hours he'd be away and acting absolutely bowled over by his many and varied non-responsibilities. "Are you sure you'll be ok?" He demanded of House again while buttoning up his shirt. "I'll call in and tell them I can't make tonight if you want me to." "Erm... Wilson... We're two grown men..." "One of whom will go berserk if a tall blonde guy in a grey overcoat turns up anywhere in a ten mile radius." "Fine, I'll make sure not to invite up any tall blonde guys in grey overcoats." "What if he gets worse?" "The Haldol is in his Jacket pocket. If I have to use it I will." He had now moved on to knotting his tie and was making a hopeless mess of it. "Wilson, the thin end goes underneath..." "Is it any wonder I'm nervous?" "Well, yes as a matter of fact!" He shook his head. "Fine, I'll go. But I know for a fact I won't be able to concentrate on anything or anyone!" "That's outside my control." Wilson munched down a salmon bagel and finally left.

House made himself comfortable on the sofa where Danny was already sitting. "Great", his brother-in-law said. "And now let's get drunk!" WHOOPS! That definitely hadn't been part of the plan. Ok... Strategy... House shrugged. "You can if you want to. If I do I'll probably turn yellow and puke my brains out." "Aw c'mon, it can't be that bad about your liver!" "It's bad enough. And we had a LOT of wine on Saturday." "Well, if you don't mind... I'll get a real beer now." Oh shit... "I'm not even sure there is any." "Yeah, right! What happened? Sneaky beer thief coming in over night? Mad frat party minus the frat boys? Hell, you guys even have beer in the House for Yom Kippur!" "Well we don't now. Meant to go shopping yesterday and never had a chance then." "Fine, let's get some now!" "Wilson's got the car." "The store is right on the corner." "I'm not walking anywhere today." "Ok, I'll go." Oh dear... House did some quick thinking. "Well... To tell the truth..." "Yeah?" "It's about a bet." "A bet..." "Yep! I made a bet with Cuddy that we could stay off the beer for a week. She doesn't think we can. Got to prove her wrong now, right?" Danny nodded. "Definitely. Well, I'm not gonna be the one to spoil that, that's a matter of honour." "Exactly!" PHEW! Danny went to get some unleaded for both of them instead and they settled down to some serious veg-TV. "X-treme boobjobs? Wow, that's the kind of stuff I never get to see when I'm home!" "I never watch it unless you're here either." They leant back in the happy knowledge of being a bad influence on each other. "Whoooaaaaaaa! I can't look awaaaaaay!" "They're like space hoppers!" "How does she stay upright?" They had a beautifully disgraceful time of it.

When Wilson came home that night, he hardly stopped to say hello before stomping into the study and going online. House didn't pay it much heed at first, he sometimes did that after his clinic nights, to research treatment options for new arrivals or just rant a bit on his oncology group when things had been really difficult or annoying. Only when he didn't even reappear for the Blade Runner director's cut on HBO, which they had both been looking forward to for a week, did House become concerned. "Wilson! Blade Runner!" "I'm busy, enjoy!" "You've been looking forward to this for a week!" "I didn't know what would happen tonight last Wednesday, did I? I'm sure you two will have a great time watching without me." "So what did happen tonight?" "I'll tell you later, you get down to your movie." "No, we all get down to our movie. Whatever happened tonight, you won't resolve it before the morning, so you might as well come and watch." "I won't enjoy it anyway, too wound-up." "And if you don't unwind now you won't sleep. Come and watch the fucking movie!" Wilson sighed. "Fine..." He sat down between the two others looking dejected. "28-year-old single Mom of two, small cell, no insurance." After the movie it took House about an hour to get his beloved to bed and to sleep and even then he still looked tense. Lying next to him unable to sleep himself because his arm was stuck underneath him and he didn't dare move lest he woke him up, he looked into the darkness and listened to the sounds of the night. Night birds hooting, the occasional car, someone shouting two streets away, Danny still up in the living room giving Henry a detailed account of his downstairs neighbour's behaviour with the TV spouting paid religion in the background. They'd find a way to help that woman in the morning, there had to be something they could do.

House hardly slept, owing to his awkward position, but at least Wilson seemed ready to face the trials and tribulations of life again the next morning. Danny was still curled up on the sofa, fast asleep in his day clothes, with Henry sleeping on top of him, and they decided to leave him alone - sleep was a good sign. At the sound of the can-opener, Henry opened one disinterested eye and stayed where he was, obviously doing sentry duty for this strange human who had given him so much attention last night.


	7. Back to normal for two out of three

House and Wilson spoke in low voices. "So, what do you intend to do to help ms. Karamoulis?" "Ms. Who?" "28, two kids, smallcell, remember?" "Oh her! You never mentioned her name I think. Anyway, can we PLEASE have some breakfast first? I can't think before I have that taste out of my mouth." "Which taste?" "Pain meds and toothpaste." He shuddered. "The combined aftertaste is beyond description." "Aw, poor you!" "It never happened with Vicodin, so shut the fuck up, I'm suffering through this for both of us!" "Well aren't you quite the little hero?" But he got a kiss anyway, Wilson knew that even ten years later he was still taking things a day at a time. They made breakfast together, not quite sure whether to use real coffee or decaf. "He'll probably be ok when he wakes up." House suggested. "And if he isn't?" "Then we can still make decaf. I need some real coffee now." "Ok..." They heard stirrings from the living room. "Mrrrmmmmm... Morning Henry! Sorry about all the crap I told you last night, you can discount about 90% of it. Though the guy still isn't particularly nice or anything..." Danny got up and came into the kitchen, looking crumpled but refreshed. His eyes were clearer than they had been the past two days. Wilson gave him a smile. "You're looking great!" "I'm feeling great. Sorry, I must have put you through hell on Tuesday morning." "You were there for me last winter, it was pay-back time." "You've been there for me since I was 16, if you were sick of it you'd have a point." Wilson shook his head, with his special sheepish little smile. "I'm... Still making up for the 15 years we lost. It's all good as long as I have you." "Pantywaist!" "So?" "Ok, yeah, I guess it's fine..." They exchanged a welcome back to the real world hug. House felt momentarily excluded from their closeness but didn't mind. His bond with Danny was different but just as strong. "Anyway, my back is screaming for a hot shower, I just can't sleep on sofas the way I used to anymore." "I don't know how you can sleep on that thing at all." "It's warm, it's dry and it's rat-free", Danny shrugged on the way to the bathroom, making House feel like the world's biggest sissy.

Danny was in the middle of flooding his pancakes with maple syrup when his composure suddenly started to crumble. "This sucks so bad..." He muttered, looking tense and distressed. "What does?" Whoa, of all the stupid questions. House threw Wilson a less than impressed look. "This fucking disease. I'm sick of it!" "Wanna swap? The one time I went so mad I actually needed treatment I was practically painfree." Danny sighed. "I know, we all have good reason to complain. Only... This has cost me so much. You guys pretty much got to live the life you wanted, but me... One fucking phone call..." "I'm sorry, Danny!" "Oh for God's sake, James, shut up! It wasn't your fault! What were you supposed to do? Fail your exam? Another life not going according to plan?" "It still probably wouldn't have happened if I'd let you talk that night..." "Then it would have happened at some other time. Isn't that just the thing with schizophrenia? You tell me, you're the doctors! It fucks you up for life, takes away your friends, your relationships, your memories, breaks families apart, messes up everyone around you... Do you think I can't imagine how you must have felt on Tuesday morning, thinking the whole nightmare would happen all over again?" "I was ok..." "No you weren't, if I hadn't force fed you those Valiums you'd be in the CCU now. At least be honest, your baby brother is old enough to take it now!" "Thanks, Greg..." Danny gave House a smile. "Fine, I wasn't ok. I'm not sure I ever will be." "See? That's what I mean. When you go under with this you drag everyone with you. Hell, we came from a happy family... Until I got sick." "Not true. It began to fall apart much earlier, only you were too young to realise it then. The first time I remember something seemed seriously wrong was at Uncle Ed's funeral, and you were five then." "All I remember of that is my hand going dead because you were squeezing it so hard. Things wouldn't just have seemed wrong because it was Uncle Ed's funeral, no?" "No, it was more than that. You know how... People usually pull together at funerals, united in their loss? There was nothing of that there." "And you realised that at the age of ten? Gimme a break, Jimmy!" "No I didn't, duh! But I realise it looking back. It would have probably ended up just being you and me this way or the other." House pulled a pout. "Yes, House, and you..." Wilson sarcastically petted his back and found himself rewarded with a childishly proud, vigorous nod. They laughed, and Danny joined in, which was definitely a good thing. "It's ok now I guess, I've sort of arrived at a point where I can deal with it. And I know I'll always have you guys. But, hell, the way there had a lot of potholes." House followed their interaction with fascination, wondering what things would have been like if he'd had siblings, a big brother to protect him, a younger one to protect. Or a sister to be at war with - anything but to be his father's lone foot soldier. But then he'd hit it pretty well eventually, ending up with a loving family without making any efforts in that regard whatsoever, with a husband, a brother, a niece, a granddaughter... He felt lucky for a moment. Danny started to speak again. "Phew, at least Joe never turned up for our lunch date. I'd have probably freaked at him and thrown him out." "He did turn up, and that's exactly what happened." "Oh great, there's another friendship gone." Danny was about to slide into despondency again, but Wilson put his arm around him reassuringly. "I don't think it is. I explained everything to him and he was... Fine with it I guess. Well, not fine with it, but not mad at you, just concerned if you'd be ok. He said if you had to go in he'd come and see you in hospital." "Really?" "Really!" "Wow..." Unquestioning friendship was not a big feature of Danny's life, most people seemed to decide he was too much of a handful sooner or later. He seemed elated in a good way. "I better call him to apologise." He buzzed off.

Wilson used the opportunity to bring the conversation back to the topic that had well nigh kept him awake last night. "So... Is the taste gone yet?" "As in can I think? Well, as you're not gonna stop annoying me until I do..." "Fine, I'll just tell her tough shit, you're gonna die!" "No, you won't!" "But? Given that I can't seem to think of anything and you obviously don't want to..." "Did I say I didn't want to? You want ideas, I want pancakes, so there, we've got a deal." "You already had six..." "So? I haven't had a drink since Sunday. Pleeeeeeze, Uncle Jimmy?" Wilson rolled his eyes and put the pan back on the stovetop. "Time for your end of the deal, House!" Now it was time for House to roll his eyes. "It's pretty obvious really, isn't it?" "Not to me, it isn't. Blame my recent anxiety levels!" "Remind me, what did we do for a living again?" "Respectively figuring out what's wrong with people and, in cases of neoplastic diseases, trying to cure them. Your point being?" "That we actually made a name for ourselves and the hospital doing it? Time to call in a couple of favours I should think." "Rather you than me..." "Right, time for manipulator man! It's perfectly easy really as long as we make them all feel indebted enough to you. Chase will do the surgery if he knows what's good for him and we'll get the new guy in oncology to let you use the equipment, so there." "And... Assuming that'll actually work, we'll boil up the cyclophosphamide on the stovetop?" "But of course, get your rubber gloves on! DUH! Pharma reps anyone? You're bound to have a couple of phone numbers. Get her into a clinical trial if necessary, then you're rid of all the worries anyway cos the drug company will pay." Wilson slowly nodded. "I hear you." A big sloppy kiss followed. "Thanks, you've earned that extra pancake!" House topped it with an extra slice of bacon just to make the point.

Danny came strolling back into the kitchen. "Hey, why does he get another pancake and I don't?" Wilson gave him a "What did I do to deserve this?" Look and put the pan back on the stovetop yet again. "Oh, you'll be rid of me tomorrow, by the way" Danny continued. "I just rescheduled that lunch date. Joe is picking me up at Penn Station, there's a new place on Herald Square we've been meaning to check out for a while." "That's great", Wilson said, but the smile on his face looked forced. Danny rolled his eyes. "Jimmy, sit down right here next to me, I've got to tell you something." Wilson did, like a good boy. Danny looked him straight in the eye. "Listen, Jimmy! I'm never, ever going to disappear again. I have Haldol in my jacket pocket, I'm wearing an emergency bracelet, you can call me on my cell anytime you want. It. Will. Be. Fine! And I'm just through an episode, I should be ok for a couple of years now." Wilson sighed and nodded. "I know. I'm trying, ok?" "Forget the cell phone, though..." "Wow, Greg, that's great, you're really helping." "So you're seriously trying to tell me that when you freak out in a public place and something starts ringing in your pocket you're not gonna kick it to kingdom come." "Not if it's your ring tone. Has there ever been a time when I didn't trust you?" "Which is yet another thing about you I don't get." Danny shrugged. "You've been through it. I guess mad me keeps that in mind." Well, yes, on some level that made sense. "And what if someone calls before us?" Ok, so Wilson was trying, but it was hard for him. "Look, I know there's no absolute guarantee it'll never happen again. But the probability is low. I've a better support network, I'm more balanced, I'm better medicated, I'm prepared. If I ever run off again I'll be gone for three days, not 15 years." Wilson slowly nodded. "Ok... Sorry... I hate this myself by the way. I don't want to think of you as my sick baby brother. I mean, hell, you were gone for 15 years, you've been back in my life for more than 30. You'd think my mind would get used to the idea!" "You lost a college kid and you got back a hobo. We missed the most important years of our adulthood together. Your mind won't get used to the idea. But it's ok, Jimmy. It's honestly ok. I don't mind: I know where it's coming from." Danny opened his arms and Wilson gratefully accepted the embrace.

House gave them about 30 seconds. "If I may interrupt this touching display of fraternal affection for a moment..." "I guess so", Wilson grumped. "When are we seeing Adrian Gimignano?" "Who the hell is Adrian Gimignano?" "The attorney I found myself yesterday. We should go and see him this week." "WE? WE? I did NOT french the Reverend, you did! So YOU should go and see him this week!" "Aaaaaaaaw..." House sniffled sarcastically. "I thought you'd come with me and hold my hand. Not to mention act as main defence witness, in which case your presence at that meeting would also be a good idea." "Of course... Yes... That's my true calling, isn't it? Cleaning up your mess. I've done it..." "...not right from the start. I bailed YOU out." "Yeah, and I'm still paying you back." "Waaaahhhh... I only did it for you and Gina!" "Leave Gina out of this!" "Well, she can't wait to be nice and loyal to me." "Yes, because she's seven years old." "Rachel could have said no on her behalf." "Well if I may interrupt this sitcom argument for a moment..." Danny had been following their repartee like a tennis match. "What is that about the Reverend and the attorney?" "A Reverend and an attorney walk into a bar..." "HOUSE!" Danny snorted and House adopted a pout. "Fine, Uncle Jimmy... I frenched the Reverend on Sunday." Danny cocked an eyebrow. "Did he volunteer? Cos that would be... Surprising." "No he didn't. That's why I have to see the attorney, duh! He's gonna sue me for sexual assault." Wilson told the whole story. "The Reverend and his little play friends have decided we're a bad influence on Gina, and to let the world know they picketed this building all weekend. I didn't think I'd see the day when I'd be called a Jew fag. They picketed and preached and gave Gina nightmares and staged a sit-in in our parking space and generally acted like jerks..." "...so when they were trying to topple me again on Sunday I just got really pissy and force-frenched the asshole to give him something real to complain about." "Well the sit-in in your parking space is creative anyway..." "Still annoying", Wilson pointed out. "Hey, I'm totally with Greg on this one. And I should think you'd be, too." "I am. But I still wish he hadn't done it." "Anyway, that's a clear not-guilty. You were provoked and it was the ultimate result of a three-year harassment campaign." Wilson nodded. "Well, let's hope the jury sees that the same way." House went out to make an appointment with his new attorney for Friday afternoon. Passing the window he noticed the postman in the street. "Mailman! The guy with the two good legs goes down to the mailbox." Two minutes later Danny returned with a letter from the judiciary. House was going to be tried for sexual assault on Tuesday, June 24th, at eleven o'clock.

Wilson was the first to break the silence: "Sorry you'll still have that hanging over your head on your birthday..." House shrugged: "Birthdays suck anyway, who cares?" "You won't say that if I forget it this year..." Wilson winked. "Well I didn't say birthday breakfasts suck, did I? Just birthdays as such." "Aaaaaaaah... That makes bunches of sense of course." "Yes it does!" "No it doesn't!" "Does, too!" "Doesn't!" Danny shook his head. "And people say I'm mad? Last thing I remember you were going to call your attorney, Greg." "Right..." House went out to the study and made an appointment for eleven-ish the next morning.


	8. Preparing the Case

They had an early start anyway because it was the cleaner's day and they had decided to take her to task about misplacing the pain meds AGAIN. They both figured it would be better to be fully showered, dressed and breakfasted for that and order to project authority, so when the cleaner came the next morning she was in for quite a surprise. "Oh, are you going out?" She wondered. "I don't think I've ever seen you dressed so early." "Um... No." House and Wilson looked at each other. Finally Wilson started. "Will you sit down for a minute, Mrs. Krummbichler?" "Yes... Sure..." She seemed surprised but sat down with them at the kitchen table. Wilson gave House a look. Alright, yes, his turn. "You know the pain meds on my nightstand?" He looked her straight in the eye. "Yes, why?" "You know how you're not supposed to ever move them? Lift them, dust under them, put them back, that's what you're supposed to do. So why did you move them AGAIN last weekend?" She raised her eye-brows. "Oh, did I? I'm sorry, Dr House." "Yes you did! And you didn't put them into one of your usual hiding places either! I woke up in agony last Saturday night and had to wake Dr Wilson to get my meds from the bathroom." "Oh I'm so sorry. I really don't know why I keep doing that. I guess I just want things tidy." Wilson gave her a rather perfunctory smile. "Honestly, they're tidy enough for us with the meds on the nightstand." "Obviously, if you're so intent on keeping them there." "WHAT?" House thought he couldn't believe his ears. "We're NOT fucking intent on keeping them there, I NEED them there! Do you think they're ornamental or something?" Mrs Krummbichler seemed slightly shocked at the outburst. "Um... Do you think you might be... Addicted to painkillers if they're so important to you?" "Yes actually! I've been addicted to more painkillers than you know exist! And the reason for that is that I'm in pain! Chronic, excruciating, crippling pain! Wanna see my scars?" He was quite ready to drop his pants to drive the point home, but Wilson intervened just in time. He put his arm around House. "No point in freaking at her", he murmured. "I think she honestly doesn't see the point." The cleaner was looking slightly shell-shocked. Wilson turned towards her. "Mrs Krummbichler, did you ever break a limb?" She didn't have to think to answer that one. "Yes, my leg when I was eight. The bits were all over the place, I was in a cast for six weeks." Wilson nodded. "Did it hurt?" "Oh yeah, badly. I had to take painkillers every four hours to keep it at bay, strong ones." "I'm sure you did. Now, can you imagine the pain hadn't stopped?" She thought for a moment. "You mean my leg would still hurt now, nearly fifty years later?" "Yes. All day, every day, and through the night, waking you up, making you almost unable to walk or to do anything you used to love, turning you into a narcotics addict with all the associated side-effects..." She looked back and forth between them in growing realisation, then in horror. Finally her gaze focussed on House, a mixture of horror and compassion. "And that's what happened to you? You've been in pain for nearly 50 years?" "Well, 42, give or take a couple of months, but yes." "And all because of a broken leg?" "No, it was a little more complicated than that, but the net result is the same, severe chronic pain." She gawked. "How do you even manage to get up every morning?" House shrugged. "Stubbornness and the lure of pancakes. Anyway, given the circumstances, will you PLEASE let me have my pain meds when I need them?" "Yes, and I'm really really sorry. I didn't know how serious it was." "Ok..." She went out and got her cleaning equipment from the basement.

Danny came back in from the study where he had bought his train ticket, queuing at the counter was something he preferred to avoid. "Wow, impressive performance, guys. I don't think she'll ever forget about the meds again." "Well, here's hoping anyway. It's not exactly that I enjoy fumbling for Voltaren in the bathroom cupboard when I'm half asleep." House stuck out his lower lip. "Meh, I thought you loved me!" "Aaaaaaaaw!" They kissed.

Later they dropped Danny off at the station on their way to see Adrian Gimignano, the attorney. He winked at Wilson. "You can call me anytime, ok?" Wilson smiled sheepishly. "I'll try not to." They hugged and Danny was gone. "And now for the fun part of the day", House declared as they entered the offices of Gimignano and Hughes, exactly on time thanks to Wilson being a pain in the ass. A dapper little guy in an italian suit came from the office on the left. "Hi, I'm Adrian Gimignano, which one of you is Greg House?" "The little person hiding behind me." "Haw haw, House!" Wilson made the introductions for both of them. "Well, I can see working with you guys is not gonna be boring." The attorney smiled. "Care to come in?" They followed him into his office and sat down on a sofa that was really a tad too low for the aged and incapacitated. Adrian poured coffee for everyone and took a seat opposite the table. "So, how can I help you gentlemen?" "You can get me off a charge of sexual assault if you're any good at your job." "Well, I like to think I am. So what do you have to offer in your defence? Do you have witnesses? Good reasons? Reasonable excuses?" "Well, there was the three year harassment campaign to start with..." Wilson suggested. "Ok, yeah, that sounds like a reason for freaking out eventually. Why don't you give me the low down on that? And are there any other witnesses?" House counted them out. "Well, there's our friend Dr Foreman, he saw the picket and the sit-in." "Sit-in?" "I'll give you the details later. There's our downstairs neighbour, Jack... Wilson, what's Jack's surname?" "Ummm... O'Sullivan I think." "Right, Jack O'Sullivan. He saw the kiss. Our neighbour across the landing saw the whole harassment campaign, more of it than we did it seems. And our granddaughter saw what went on all weekend. And they all agreed stand as witnesses." "Hm yeah, that's all well and good, but your granddaughter is a blood-relation, right? So she can't bear witness." "No she's not", Wilson explained. "We became honorary grandparents when she was born because we helped our friend bring up her Mom." "Right, fair enough I guess. I'll need names." "Dr Eric Foreman, Jack O'Sullivan, Ella Kaminski and Gina Elizabeth Blythe Cuddy." "And Gina is off-age I trust?" "No, she's seven years old. But her mother is giving written consent." "Right." Adrian took a note of that. "So now tell me the whole story!" They did, in minute detail while the attorney scribbled away. He looked impressed once they had finished. "Wow, I'm amazed you managed to put up with it for so long!" "It helps to know you're still the better person" House said. "It's not really worth engaging with these guys. And we wouldn't have if they hadn't involved Gina." "Understandable, especially if it gave her nightmares. Would you still have any of the pamphlets the guy has shoved under your door?" "Oh yeah, they make for pretty funny reading." "Ok, bring them along for the next meeting. And I want to meet your witnesses, too. I think we've got a good case in your favour here, any reasonable jury will agree that you were acting under immense emotional stress." "Such a shame that people usually aren't reasonable." "You'd be surprised..." Adrian chuckled and showed them out.

They were finished at the attorney's a good long time before lunch and found themselves in blazing sunshine stepping out of the building. Wilson sniffed the early summer air. "Why don't we go to Battlefield Park for a bit before lunch?" He suggested. House gave the air a sniff himself just for good measure and agreed. Battlefield Park was nice, a bit of scenery, a bit of history and comfortable benches at convenient distances from each other. "Sure, yeah..." They parked as close by as they could and set out on a leisurely stroll - not that they were actually able to stroll along at a much more energetic pace these days. Wilson put his arm around House, the way he usually did, and House hated not being able to respond. They had always walked with their arms around each other as long as House had still been able to get around with a cane, but now he needed both arms to keep himself upright... Meh... He wriggled out of the embrace. "Leave that, will you?" "Huh?" "It's annoying!" "Well you used to like it!" "And now I don't anymore, ok?" Wilson looked surprised and a little hurt. They walked in silence for a couple of minutes, then Wilson suggested they take a breather. They found a bench near a chestnut tree, borderline romantic, and sat down. House leant back, stretched out his legs and closed his eyes into the sun. Wilson snuggled his head into the crook of his neck. "That ok with you?" "Uhu..." House put his arm around him and felt a surge of happiness. Wilson understood.

They sat doing the old guys on a park bench thing, letting the sun soak into their bones, and Wilson seemed to be dozing off. House gave him a smile and a chaste little kiss. It had been a stressful week for him; he deserved some downtime. House closed his eyes again, ah, this was good. He snuggled up closer to Wilson so that they were now leaning head to head. House kissed his neck, never opening his eyes, then snuggled back. Ah bliss... Until... Suddenly he felt a gaze on him. He opened his eyes. Right in front of them, not even ten feet away, a kid was standing, a boy about Gina's age. He was on his own, dressed in a batman T-shirt and bermudas, and he was gawking at them, his mouth open as wide as basic human anatomy allowed. WTF? House didn't have a problem with children as such, they had his ear when they were articulate, they got a smile when they were funny and they could be sure of his sympathy when they were sad, even if he didn't always let them know. But gormlessness? EW! He didn't hold with that at all, not one bit! He threw him a look. The kid started to cry and ran away. Wilson woke up with a start. "What the hell was that?" "Kid gawked at us like he'd never seen two old guys on a park bench before, I threw him a look, he ran away, that's all." "A look..." "Yes, a look. What do you think I did? Slap him?" "Well, he sure as hell sounded like it." "I can't help it if the kid was a wuss, can I?" "Must have been some look, that..." House just shrugged, but Wilson seemed intent on getting up. "Let's get going before he comes back with his tattooed, redneck Dad..." "Redneck? This is Princeton, not Bumblefuck, Arkansas!" "I'd rather not put that one to the test..." "Whatevah..." He allowed Wilson to help him up and they went back to the car.

They went home via the deli to pick up some lunch, and while House laid the table Wilson went to the bedroom to hang up their Jackets. Suddenly he started laughing. "Wow, I think she's learned her lesson this time. House, come in and look!" "Is it worth it?" "I promise it is!" House doubted that but came anyway, who knew. He saw it before he was even quite through the door, a startling, gilt-edged, incredibly PINK china object on his nightstand where his meds should have been. He gawked, closed his eyes, and opened them again. There were a couple of small, brown-ish plastic containers, obviously his meds, showing over the edge of what he now was pretty sure was Mrs Krummbichler idea of a pretty china bowl. His jaw dropped and he couldn't help but stare in silence for a moment. Finally his voice came back. "Wilson..." "Yeah..." "It's... PINK!" His delicate aesthetic sensibilities were still reeling. He carefully moved closer, always prepared to make a quick retreat in case that pink thing would turn out to be an alien life form and go for his throat. Next thing he noticed was that the - he hesitantly decided to refer to it as a bowl after all - in so far as it wasn't filled with medicine containers, contained mixed Hershey's Kisses. There was also a post-it note sticking to it. He finally plucked up all his courage and picked the bowl up. It didn't growl at him, which was definitely a good sign. He tore off the note. "What does it say?" "Sorry, that's all." "Aw, that's nice of her..." "You wouldn't happen to like Hershey's Kisses, would you?" "No, would you?" "Ew, no! They're crumbly and they taste of puke!" "Exactly!" "So what do we do with these?" House took out the meds and poured the chocolates into his open hand, only to reveal more horrors about the bowl. "HELP! It's the terror of the deep!" There was a sort of baroque-ish angel painted, or mostly likely transfer-printed, into the bottom. Wilson collapsed onto the bed laughing. "I can't sleep with that next to my head, it'll give me nightmares!" House whined. "Aw, I'll cuddle you better then! And now call Mrs Krummbichler and tell her thanks for the lovely bowl and you really appreciate the effort she made. And we can keep the chocolates for the next time Matty and Jack come up I guess, they still have the Hershey's hormone." House nodded and went back to the kitchen to put the kisses away and finish the table. Wilson followed him with the phone. "Call her! Now!" "After lunch..." "Riiiiiight... Just don't forget, ok? That was nice of her, no matter what the bowl actually looks like." "Yeah, I guess you're right." They sat down to lunch.

They were just about to tuck into the chicken salad when Wilson's cell rang. He tensed up as he answered it. "Yeah? Ok... Ok..." House could see his posture relax now. "That's great." A smile was making its way across his face. "Say hi, will you ... Enjoy ... Chicken salad ... With asparagus ... It's good, yeah ... Mmmm, you'll have to tell me more about those pickles some time ... Of course I will ... See you!" Wilson finished the call. "Danny says hi." He looked proud of himself. "Do you know, I actually didn't worry about him once since we dropped him to the train." "Cos you were too busy worrying about me and the court case, so don't you look so fucking smug about it." Wilson stuck out his lower lip. "Do I ever get any credit in this place?" "Only for your cooking, so none right now. And you tensed up when the phone rang, so you did worry, ha!" But he gave Wilson a smile anyway, even just letting Danny travel on his own had been quite some achievement for him. They went back to their lunch but had hardly swallowed the next bite when the doorbell rang. "Come in!" Mrs Garrison walked in. "I just caught the mail man, thought I'd bring your stuff up." "Thanks!" Wilson took the letters from her. "Oh, before I forget, my husband talked to the rental agency. If the Reverend stages another picket he'll have to look for a new place. If nothing else, he's really inconveniencing people. And I don't know how you manage to put up with him at all." Wilson shrugged. "When you've been through as much together as we have, people like him hardly register on the radar. We'd still put up with him if he hadn't dragged Gina into it." "Gina?" "Our granddaughter..." "Oh right, the girl who was here last weekend, right?" "That's the one." "You're right, she's far too young to be dragged into something like that. Poor little innocent thing!" "Indeed, the picket gave her a nightmare, she came into our bedroom crying that night." Mrs Garrison tutted. "The Reverend should be ashamed of himself." House chuckled in a resigned way. "Yeah right, that'll happen..." Mrs Garrison smiled sympathetically. "Anyway, I better get out to the store. Anything I can get you?" "Thanks, we're good." She waved and left.

House and Wilson sorted through the mail. Spam... Spam... ISP-bill... Spam... Something that looked like spam but was immediately snatched by Wilson and thus obviously wasn't... Something from Wilson's cancer charity... Spam... An account statement... House's six monthly hepatologist's appointment... Spam. House read the appointment letter, grumbling. "What's the point anyway? I'm not gonna get better, and I'm being a good boy most of the time, so I'm not gonna get worse either. Might as well stay at home and leave the appointment for someone who actually needs it." "You're not half as good as you could be..." "Well, so sorry for having to rely on hepatoxic medications to be able to move." "And the bourbon?" "Aaaaw! C'mon, let an old man have his little pleasures!" "All I'm saying is you might well get worse, and liver disease is one fucking nasty way to go. So you might as well keep your appointment, just in case." "And it's that new guy, Dr Yamamoto!" House did NOT like the idea of having to get used to a new doctor at all. His old hepatologist, Dr Chessington, had retired recently and that annoyed the hell out of him. He had known the guy for decades, first as a colleague who knew his stuff, then as a doctor he could trust, and now? Meh! "It'll be the whole no drinking lecture again!" "No, it won't be. Dr Yamamoto is not new, you've met him before, he's Chessington's duckling, he knows you and your history, you'll be just fine with him." "No I won't be! Whenever I've seen him he's given me that you know you shouldn't be drinking look." "And is he right or isn't he?" "Don't you start!" Wilson shook his head and went back to his lunch. "Anyway, what was that thing you snitched away?" House asked him. Wilson feigned innocence. "I just thought it looked interesting..." "Yeah, right!" House tried to sneak a peek at it but Wilson stuffed it into his trouser pocket. "Just looked interesting, yeah?" Now House was the one shaking his head: Wilson was pathetic at times. They finished their lunch in convivial silence.

Wilson didn't leave House alone for long, though. "When are you getting all the witnesses together for a briefing?" He asked while House was still swallowing his last bite of summer berry Jell-O with custard. "Christ's sake, can't a man even finish his lunch in peace here?" "Not if the man has the stupidest court case in human history hanging over his head and has only got himself to blame for it." "It's still over three weeks to go, so plenty of time, no matter how much you guilt-trip me over it." "You consider just over three weeks plenty of time to get six people plus an attorney into the same room at the same time? Interesting..." "Four of the six are retired and two are in full time education. I've faced bigger challenges." "And you're already down three days because of your check-up, Gina's weekend and your birthday. " "Forget my birthday..." Wilson giggled. "You're so adorable when you're trying to be cool..." "WHAT?" "I actually wonder if I should forget your birthday this year, just to see what would happen..." Wilson had his you can't fool me look. "Nothing would, I'd just get on with my day as usual." "Yeah, right..." "Try it!" "Naw, I like that happy toddler look too much that you get when you open your presents." "HAPPY TODDLER LOOK?" House nearly spat out his coffee. Wilson just nodded, grinning. Ok, yes, fine, he was right. Usually House really didn't give a rat's ass about his birthday, but with Wilson it was... Different. He made him feel special, and very very loved. Still, happy toddler look? No way! House quietly plotted for revenge in the back of his head while being ostensibly constructive outwards. "We could do the whole thing on Gina's Friday. She'll be there anyway, there's no way Jack does anything on Fridays and everybody else can plan whichever the hell they want anyway." "And it's the second last working day before the trial, so you MIGHT just want to have the whole thing a little earlier. What if someone can't make it?" Meh, he was right... "Ok ok, I'll start calling people today. Just let me finish my coffee and call Mrs Krummbichler. I don't wanna hurt her feelings." "You care about Mrs. Krummbichler feelings? But of course..." "Yes I do, she's the best cleaner we've ever had and I want to keep her." "Fair enough..."

House attended to his phone calls and actually managed to nail everyone down to the following Thursday, one day after his check-up. He was relived in a way, at least he'd have that out of the way and would be able to concentrate. He hated admitting it and had no intention of telling Wilson, but he was scared. He had lost weight since the last time, despite eating as much as ever, as in like a horse, he had taken more painkillers than usual while Wilson had been ill, then the overdose... He knew he should have gone to see Dr Yamamoto straight after that, but he'd had a million excuses and some actual good reasons at the time not to. And occasionally he was becoming forgetful. The rational part of his mind told him it was just old age and stress, but there was a little voice nagging away somewhere near the back of his brain that said hepatic encephalopathy more and more frequently. That was what he was really scared of. House was pretty sure he could deal with the pain and discomfort of advanced cirrhosis, but the idea of losing his intellectual abilities... He shook his head. He couldn't allow his thoughts to go down that road, it lead to dangerous places. "You ok?" Wilson came into the room. "Fine, yeah..." House composed himself as best as he could. "No you're not. Let me know when you're ready to talk." "I'm fine." He wouldn't tell Wilson, no way. He didn't want to worry him. Anyway, the rational part of his mind intervened, the check-up might well go perfectly fine.


	9. Functioning Organ or Foie Gras?

Wilson, however, got even more suspicious when he caught House actually making an effort to turn up for his appointment on time. "What is it, House?" "What is what?" "You're not running late." "I'm just trying to be polite for once, is that so hard to understand." "Well, yes, because you don't actually do polite. Just tell me, for fuck's sake!" "I. AM. FINE!" He could feel Wilson's eyes burning into the back of his head as he left, jingling the keys in his hand with a casualness he didn't feel at all. Dr Yamamoto was already waiting for him when he got to the hospital. "Morning, Dr House. Good to see you." A short gaze up and down. "You've lost weight." "No I haven't." "Yes you have. Your waistband is slightly looser than the last time I saw you. And we're gonna put you onto the scales anyway, so why bother lying?" Whoa... Was in equal parts impressed and creeped out. Impressed because that guy would have done well on any of his teams, creeped out because he was used to his mirror image being 6'3" And Caucasian, not 5'6" And Japanese. "Have a seat on the bed, we might as well start with the physical exam right away." Right, this guy didn't take no shit. House sat down like a good boy and stretched out his arms in front of him. "Good, no tremor. Would you lift your shirt?" House bit back a "Not for you, just for Wilson" Retort and exposed his stomach. "Looks good." Dr Yamamoto smiled. "Nice and flat." He felt it for signs of ascites. "Does this hurt? Here? Here?" Ok, the guy did a nice, thorough job, good. He felt his way all around House's tummy. "Excellent, still no sign of ascites." House went over to the scales unprompted. 182 lbs. "See, you lost weight. Just two pounds, though, that's probably nothing to worry about. I'll take some blood now and then you can take the ICT while I do the basic labs." A pinprick, and then House found himself faced with a lot of X's and Y's in weird places, worried about the result, and nervous he might fuck up because he was worried. He tried to concentrate but his mind kept slipping back to all the bad things he had done to his liver over the past six months. X...Y... Press... Press... X... Shit, had that been a Y? Oh God... Dr Yamamoto came back with the lab read-out. "You can stop now." He looked at the screen with satisfaction. "Your head is as fine as it's ever been." "Not very, then." House was very very relieved. "Well, then let's say it's no worse. You passed the ICT with flying colours at any rate. Still, there IS a concern about your bloods." Oh shit, that was one thing House had been fearing. He sat down on the bed again and listened. "Your serum albumen is way down. It was at 32 the last time, now it's at 29. Now, that means you still score as a class A, but only just, so we'll have to look into that. Is there anything I should know?" House sighed, there was no point in even trying to deny anything. "I overdosed last winter." "Overdosed? Are you back on the Vicodin?" "No, it was Valium. Not that that makes any real difference from your perspective." "No, indeed not. Anything else?" "I've been taking more pain meds than usual some of the time. Had a lot of stress." "And the drinking?" "Same as ever, never more than five units a week. I've been good in that regard." "Well, that's something. Anyway, how about we do a quick Fibroscan right now, so we can assess the scarring and see what we're dealing with?" "Ok!" House liked the sound of that, no hanging around, a quick result, no laissez faire blah-ing. He had to admit to himself that he was beginning to like Dr Yamamoto. Ew... He didn't like the feeling of ultrasound gel on his skin. They looked at the monitor together as the hepatologist moved the scanning head around House's liver area. "Hm yeah... I think there is a little more scarring there than the last time." He finished the scan and ran the video from the last check-up next to the current one for comparison? "See? It's a little stiffer." House tried to look unconcerned but obviously didn't succeed. Dr Yamamoto looked at him, with warmth in his eyes. "Have a proper seat on the sofa, we'll talk this over. " He sat down as told. "Ok, we know what we're dealing with now, but we don't know if it's natural progression, which would be bad news, or a result of your increased medication use... And the overdose, which would definitely be better news." House nodded. "Given that your disease has been pretty much static since you were diagnosed, it might well be the latter." House hoped that very much. All in all he liked being alive, and he liked his intellect even more. "Ok, I need you back here in three months. Until then, do everything you'd usually do, eat the same, drink the same, take your usual doses of meds. If it progresses further then, we'll have to do something, if it doesn't it was the overdose and we won't." Do what... House worried. He'd have to either quit drinking, which he didn't like, or change his pain management regimen, which he liked even less. Dr Yamamoto smiled at him, soothingly. "Don't worry, we probably won't have to do anything. This looks like a glitch to me, not anything serious." "Quit beating around the bush, you know I can take the truth." "Yes I do, and thus I'm not beating in the way you suggested. What I'm telling you is my honest medical opinion." Another warm smile. "I have too much respect for you to lie, if nothing else." "Ok..." House left feeling slightly less worried. The guy was a good doctor, his observational skills and Wilson's bedside manner. Nice. Still, the new scarring was a concern. He decided not to tell Wilson, he had enough stuff to worry about.

When House got home, Wilson wasn't there. Huh? That was not like him. Usually he texted when he went out or left a message. "Wilson?" No reply. And, in fairness, there weren't many hiding places in a two bedroom apartment to start with. Still, he checked all the rooms just to make sure nothing had happened. No, nothing there. He called Wilson's cell, only to hear it ring from the kitchen. Hm. Maybe he had just gone out for a couple of minutes. House checked the backyard from the bathroom window, and there he was. Matty, Jack's roomie, had obviously come up for a tutorial and they had decided to have it by the pool. He was sitting in one of the sun loungers with a stack of books and a can, and Wilson was talking to him while swimming up and down. His wet hair was clinging to his temples, bringing out his cheekbones something wicked. He was getting out now, looking... There was only one word for it... Hot. With all the exercise he had been getting since his illness he had firmed up - except for the seemingly unshiftable little belly that was - and was beginning to grow into his new body, using his arms to pull himself up the ladder when the dodgy leg wouldn't do and finally hobbling over to the sun lounger next to Matty's looking confident and secure. House smiled at the sight, his worries forgotten. He changed into his beach shorts and a baseball cap, took a towel and a couple more cans, and went to join them.

He bowed over Wilson from behind to kiss him hello: "Hi, hot stuff!" Wilson chuckled. "Hot stuff? What are you up to?" "Nothing, I was just watching you from upstairs and you're looking amazing." Wilson seemed surprised but happy. "Oh... Thanks..." A smile and a kiss. House went for a swim, savouring the sensation of unimpeded movement and lending half an ear to Matty's questions about paraneoplastic syndrome. Wilson was doing well explaining so far, but really making sense of non-specific symptoms wasn't his forte. "But increased clotting could mean just about anything!" Matty seemed frustrated. "I wouldn't know where to start!" House found himself counting on his fingers how many times he had heard that before but gave up when he started running to toes. "Exclude the blatantly obvious stuff first!" He shouted from the other side of the pool. "Once you've run out of actual clotting disorders you might want to start testing for something more interesting." "And in the mean time the patient is dying." House swam over to their end of the pool and leaned on the edge. "I like your attitude, but you'll just have to keep them alive till you can positively tell them it's cancer and pass them on to..." "...a nice, caring, understanding oncologist who will pick up the pieces." Wilson finished the sentence, rolling his eyes. House poked out his tongue at him. "Exactly." "So let's assume I've excluded the obvious... I still wouldn't know where to start." "Easy, test for the most immediately deadly stuff first! If there's one possibility that'll kill them in two hours, and one that'll kill them in two days, first exclude the two hour one." Matty nodded. "Makes sense... Thanks!" House felt like a beer, and it seemed his expertise would be needed from here on in. He left the pool and sat down in the next lounger, poking Wilson's belly on the way. "Hey, stop, that tickles!" "Aw, so sorry, did I poke the scar? I really didn't mean that to happen!" "Yeah, right, I believe you!" "Well, it'll remind you of not chopping up your liver to donate to random jerks in the future!" "Hell, that was over thirty years ago..." But before House could even open his mouth to reply he felt the fear descend on him again, like a physical weight. Shit, that had been the wrong thing to say. He didn't answer, just sat down silently. Wilson cocked an eyebrow at him. "Beer?" He shook his head and looked down. Thanks goodness, for once Wilson seemed to know better than to ask what was wrong AGAIN and just turned his attention back to Matty. House couldn't tell him, no way. "So what if I run out of blood and tissue to test?" Matty asked. "Get more, idiot! It takes three pints of blood before your patient begins to run dry!" House realised he was yelling. Fuck... He went upstairs, his own stupidity was quite enough to be dealing with. Wilson came up about half an hour later. "Well the hell was that all about, House?" House shrugged: "People ask me stupid questions, people get to feel the consequences." "Oh yeah, of course, that's all it is..." "Look, there is no fucking problem here except for you being a pain in the ass!" Wilson gave him a lingering look but for once shut up after that. They didn't talk till after supper, when Wilson made another valiant attempt. "Remember what we agreed on when I was sick?" He was looking straight into House's eyes. Fuck that... He couldn't help but talk: "There's slightly more scarring", he grunted. "Huh?" "There's slightly more scarring, Yamamoto wants me back there in three months instead of six to assess it!", House yelled. "Want me to buy radio time to announce it all over jersey?" Wilson sighed. "So that's all... Slightly more scarring." Now he got loud. "Have you got any fucking idea what I've been through all afternoon, you asshole? I've practically been planning your funeral! The way you were behaving inoperable angiosarcoma seemed like the least worrying possibility!" "So that's what I get for keeping to the agreement YOU thought off? What the hell is wrong with you? That'll teach me about opening up, huh?" He gestured sarcastic quotes around the 'opening up'. "Opening up my ass! If you actually were opening up you'd have told what's going on straight when you got back from the hospital!" Wilson banged the dishwasher shut. "I'm sick of your crap, dunno when I'll be back!" He got his jacket and left - without his keys. Hm, at least he wouldn't be going far then, maybe to the bar around the corner to wallow in cheap beer and self pity for a bit and that would be it. Still, this sucked. House sat down on the sofa and stared into the middle distance for quite a while. He really wanted Wilson around now, to tell him everything, to unload some of his fear, just to feel sheltered and safe. He shook his head. Why hadn't he just told him right away? Always the same fuck-up... He poured himself a bourbon... And another one... And another one. Eventually he decided the TV might provide some welcome distraction. He blankly stared at some random bitch selling jewellery for a while, then poured himself yet another bourbon. Finally he turned the TV off and just sat there again, overshadowed by a huge black thundercloud.

Eventually, House didn't know how much later, the door opened and Wilson came in, very obviously drunk. "Hi", House said softly. "Fuck off!" Wilson grunted and staggered straight into the kitchen for more beer. And that at moment House felt it coming, bursting from his lungs. There was no way of holding it back. He snorted, then burst out laughing. Wilson came out of the kitchen looking thunderstruck. "What the fuck, House?" "We're living in a sitcom, aren't we? Welcome to the Greg'n'Jimmy hour! If we're ever in really dire straits we'll just write down everything we say and sell it to fox" Now Wilson couldn't hold back anymore either. He giggled: "Forget about the money aspect, we'd never make prime time. America isn't ready for two senior citizens in a same sex relationship." "Well, we could always call you Jemima..." Wilson rolled his eyes and tried to pour House another bourbon, obviously as a peace offer. "Thanks, no. I've had plenty." "Oh, sensible, are we? So... Let's talk this through, what is it about the scarring?" House snuggled closer to his beloved. "That's all really, there's a little more scarring. Means my albumen is way down and my class A status is getting wobbly." "And that freaks you out so much? It makes perfect sense after the overdose and all the extra pain meds." "Yeah, that's what Yamamoto said, too. Oh, by the way, you're right, he's cool. Only there is a remote possibility that it's natural progression, and then I'm up shitcreek without a paddle." "WE'RE up shitcreek without a paddle you mean." "Guess so... Anyway, it's not pain or discomfort or dying I'm worried about, I can deal with that. It's the brain aspect of it..." He felt the cloud descend on him again and tried to channel his feelings into actual sadness. "One morning I'll wake up and not recognise you..." He buried his head in Wilson's shoulder. "That's what I'm scared of." Wilson put his arm around him. "How did you score in the ICT?" "Perfect, but that's now. What about in three months?" Wilson took a deep breath and gave a sad little laugh. "And of course this has to happen to us, the exact two people in the whole wide world who are definitely not equipped to deal with uncertainty..." "Huh?" "Well, you think in remote possibilities, I think in worst case scenarios. So between us you're practically a dead man." "No, a confused, demented man..." "Fine, a confused, demented man..." "Which is worse. For fuck's sake, Wilson, my brain is all I have, what if that goes?" "There's more to you than your brain, honestly... Anyway... Why don't we challenge our perceptions for a bit? If Yamamoto was so worried about you, would he really only ask you back in three months, or would he keep you in?" "Keep me in I guess." "Exactly. And what did he tell you to do for the three months?" "Live life as normal." "Well, to me that sounds like you'll be fine. Once we approach the matter like competent adults anyway." House smiled gratefully. "Maybe you're right." He turned the TV back on and took his cell. "Feel like a pizza?" "Mmmmm..." House ordered and they finished the night eating pizza and watching vintage monster truck meetings.


	10. Rain indoors and a Witness Briefing

House and Wilson had been looking forward to preparing for the witness briefing over a leisurely breakfast the next morning, but it wasn't to be. House was still in the kitchen making coffee and Wilson was still showering when the doorbell rang. WTF? They hadn't even unlocked yet, so House went to open grunting and grumbling. "Yeah?" It was Jane Carver, their neighbour straight underneath. "Listen, I'm really sorry to burst in on you like that, but there's water coming through our ceiling." Oh fuck... Just the right time for it, too. Yes, Wilson had mentioned over and over again that the bathroom needed refurbishing, and he had over and over again ignored it, but broken pipes? For fuck's sake! "Right, sorry, I'll see to it." "Thanks!" She left. "Wilson! Skip your beauty regimen, the bathroom pipe has cracked!" "WHAT?" The shower was turned off immediately and Wilson gave a superb impression of shooting out of the bathroom, stark naked and dripping wet. "SHIT! House, how often have I told you..." "...that we have to get the bathroom done, yes. You were right. Happy now?" "Well guess what, I'm not! This could have all..." "...been avoided if I had let you go ahead with it years ago. Fine, it's all yours, get the phone and the yellow pages and find us a good bathroom guy!" "Seriously?" "Well, duh? Now we can't put it off any longer, unless you never want to wash again. And now at least wrap a towel around yourself, they can see your dick from across the road!" Wilson blushed and did as told. Making breakfast he began to warm to what had happened. "Great, now we have to get it done we might as well get it done well." "As in?" "Well, they'll have to tear out the tub to get at the leak anyway, right?" "Yeaaaaah..." House felt wary, that was beginning to sound suspiciously like a major change to his living environment. "So we can finally get a decent accessible shower installed, and..." "Oh God, it's started again!" "What has started again?" "I'm hearing voices, I could swear someone just used the words 'accessible shower' here!" "House, I hate to break the news to you, but neither of us is getting any more mobile." "Look, we have a seat and a grab handle. Perfectly fine, all anyone will ever need." "We don't know that! It's either go wheelchair accessible now, or running the risk of having to tear it all up again at some point. Or worse..." "Worse..." "...get care staff in." "Well as long as her rack is something to look at..." "House, for God's sake!" Hm yes... Wilson was unfortunately talking sense. House sighed. "Fine, have it your way. But then let's go the whole nine yards. You know these Jacuzzis with doors?" Wilson nodded. "I hear you. Only by the time we'll find one that's big enough for us AND small enough for the room the water will be through to the basement." "You don't know that. Now get the yellow pages and go on a reccy while I... Prepare my defence I guess."

The whole court case was absurd and would never have made it to court in any number of countries he could think of as far as House was concerned, and so he found it hard to concentrate on finding intelligent things to say about his part in it. Listening to Wilson shouting at various bathroom companies on the phone was far more amusing really. "So your biggest one is... Six by four, right... And comes in a corner version. Great... I need that in handicap accessible. Yes, wide door... Look, I did say handicap accessible! What did you think? Blind people can use regular Jacuzzis, y'know... So what you're really trying to say here is that the American sanitary industry is not ready for tall cripples yet. Well I know a 6'3" guy with special needs and money to spend who won't be happy to hear that." "Hey, we're going halves on this, just to make that clear!" "YOU are supposed to be thinking of something clever to say to save your ass instead of eavesdropping on me! Yes... Sorry... My life partner... Exactly... Well, here's the low-down, you find us a Jacuzzi made to our specs FAST and we'll give you a nice, juicy refurbishment contract. The main pipe is broken, so the whole place will have to be redone from the bottom up... To ADA-standards, only nicer... Ok, I'm expecting your call by tomorrow morning or we'll try somewhere else."

Wilson came out of the study looking triumphant. "It's amazing what you can achieve by mentioning the one little word 'money'." "Hm... We'll see about that tomorrow morning." "So what have you achieved in the mean time?" It was impossible to miss Wilson's mocking undercurrent. "Ok, yes. Absolutely nothing. The whole thing is totally absurd, how do you expect me to think of anything reasonable about it?" "I know, but the judge won't give a shit about that. You're the accused here, unfortunately." "I know..." House was actually, slowly but surely, beginning to worry. Wilson pulled over the piano stool for himself and sat down. "Well, you could certainly cite provocation." "And the prosecution will say any competent adult could have held back and argued their case." "Let's assume for our purpose that you're not a competent adult. You have a psychiatric history, you're hypersensitive, you have a mood disorder. Three excellent reasons for being easily provoked. And they were insulting me, so here we have a nice romantic twist." "Oh great, please let me off, I'm mad! There's got to be something better to say than that!" "Yeah, the second part of your sentence. We tried to not let it get to us, Foreman tried to reason with them, the police was called and talked to them, too - at some point the calmest, most stable guy on earth would do something stupid." "Yeah, now we're getting somewhere. And they had stepped up their campaign, involved Gina, then the sit-in. And had harassed us far more than we even knew about for three years." Great, they were beginning to get into it. House was feeling more confident again.

House was feeling more and more up and down about the court case. First he had been sure of a not-guilty verdict, after all he had not actually committed a sexual assault, just reacted to ongoing severe provocation of a distinctly non-sexual kind, but then of course juries were made up of people, and people had attitudes and had to be convinced and... And by now he did feel a little stupid about the whole thing, too. His mood was fluctuating accordingly and Wilson found himself alternately hugged and snapped at, which he took with a patience that House found alternately admirable and annoying. He tried to concentrate on the paper but couldn't. "For fuck's sake, will you stop rattling the dishes like that?" Wilson just cocked an eyebrow. "It's not the dishes, it's your mind. You're in overdrive, aren't you?" "No I'm not!" "Yes you are!" Wilson came out of the kitchen and joined him on the sofa. "And you can take off that fucking Jimmy Neutron apron, too!" "YOU gave me that!" "It was Danny's idea. He said Jimmy Neutron looked like our love child." Wilson inspected the cartoon character on his chest. "He does, actually." He chuckled. "Look..." An ironic sniffle. "He has your eyes..." House couldn't help but look. "Aaw, Jimmy!" House faked a lump in his throat. "He'll grow up to study medicine and become a much better doctor than each of us has ever been, right?" Wilson nodded solemnly. "He'll have your deductive powers and my bedside manner." "The Adventures of Dr James Neutron, MD - Bedpan Genius." Wilson snorted and found himself hugged again. He gently stroked House's back. "It'll be ok, honestly. You're right, no one in their right mind could convict you for this." "Only people usually aren't in their right minds..." "You have a good attorney and reliable witnesses." "We don't know if he's any good, actually... Or better than the Reverend's." "Stacy wouldn't have recommended a total dickhead, would she?" "No, probably not." House went to channel his worries into music before they could channel themselves into his leg. He took his beloved old Taylor acoustic from the wall and didn't even have to think about a song to sing, his fingers just fell onto the simple chords. "I've been loving you a long time..." He sang. "Down all they years, down all the days... And I've cried for all your troubles... Smiled at your funny little ways..." Wilson smiled at him. "Wow... Feels nice to be serenaded at two in the afternoon." House just smiled back and went on singing. He made a mental note to do that more often again, it really was doing him good.

Still, three songs later Wilson gently prodded him. "We better get changed into something respectable. The meeting's in an hour." "Plenty of time..." "Not with the amount of time it takes you to shave..." "Shave? Hey! I only shaved on Friday!" "Well, nearly time again then, isn't it? Witness briefings are the kind of occasion where you'd want to look respectable." "I'll look perfectly respectable. I've even ironed a shirt and a pair of chinos!" "Well... It's totally up to you..." Wilson's tone of voice made it perfectly clear that it really wasn't. "Alright alright alright..." House heaved himself up whining and moaning and went to shave. On the way to Adrian Gimignano's office he kept rubbing his uncommonly smooth chin, feeling awkward and naked. "House, that makes you look like you've got something to hide." "I know. See? Another reason why you shouldn't have made me shave!" "Get over it!" At the office everyone was already waiting for them, even though they were almost on time. Gina ran towards House and hugged him somewhere in the thigh area. "Hey, careful!" "But I AM. Just thought you might like a hug because of all that trouble." She sulked. Wilson ruffled her hair. "You know what he's like..." "Okaaaaay..." She went back to Rachel, who gave House a "Listen, I am perfectly able to withdraw my consent, buddy" Look. Eventually the attorney came out of his office. "Ah, everyone's here, great! To the meeting room over there, please." He turned to the receptionist. "Coffee for everyone I guess, and..." He looked at Gina. "What do you like?" "Pineapple juice!" Back to the receptionist. "Do we have pineapple juice?" "I don't think so. Will Coke do?" "Will Coke do, little lady?" "Ok..." Gina beamed at being called a lady.

It seemed forever until everyone had found themselves the right chair and settled down in the meeting room, like it always did. Adrian took his place among the great unwashed, not at the top of the table, and House wasn't sure if he liked him better for that or worse. "Right, could everyone introduce themselves, full names, please, and how you're related to Dr House." Wow... Ella Grace Rubin Kaminski sure sounded like a pain in the ass when when filling in forms. As did John Padhraic O'Sullivan - "Yeah, my Dad was real homesick" - to constantly spell out. House felt glad for a second that his Dad had declined his wife's bastard offspring the honour of a middle name. "Thanks, everyone. So can we have your stories?" Mrs Kaminski started. "Well, the Reverend moved it a little over three years ago, and I guess he noticed pretty soon that Dr House and Dr Wilson don't... subscribe to his ideas of right and wrong. First he just ignored them, didn't greet them in the lobby and all that. Now, I wouldn't be surprised at anyone not greeting Dr House, he's a loner, but Dr Wilson always has a smile and a good word for everyone, so seeing him purposefully ignored was strange. Then I started seeing him leave pamphlets for them, first under their windshield wipers..." "How did you know they were their wipers?" "Well, how many Volvos with handicap plates do you think usually park outside our building?" "Ok, yes, that's true." "Anyway, eventually he started coming upstairs and shoving them under their door. They showed me a couple of them, it's pretty horrific stuff, about Leviticus 18 and hell and suchlike. And he started sticking signs on their door, too, saying things like 'Sodomite's Den' - it had the apostrophe in the wrong place, I liked that - and 'Jew fags' and all that. The Jew fags one is not even factually correct, Dr House is a gentile. Anyway, I always peeled them off before they got to see them, to make sure they wouldn't get more stressed out by this than absolutely necessary." "Did you keep any of them?" "No, unfortunately. Officer McCarthy already asked me the same thing, but I tore them all up straight away, I don't want that stuff in the house." "Understandable. What happened next?" "Well, it stayed that way for a while, until the last time Gina here came to see them. She comes to stay the weekend every four weeks, you see, and I guess eventually the Reverend discerned the pattern and got his congregation to stage that picket. It wasn't nice, they had signs saying about the same thing he had already stuck to their door, and he preached about them dragging an innocent girl to hell. I think he told officer McCarthy they were abusing her, too." "Now what?" House interrupted. "Either we're sodomites or we're abusing little girls! How can we possibly do both?" "I don't think logic comes very high on his priority list", Adrian laughed. "And as you're sinners anyway, I guess he wouldn't trust you to stop at just sodomy, would he?" "Obviously not... Anyway, yes, he did allege such things, officer McCarthy told us." "Right, thanks. That might count as libel. Well, that is libel actually, so it might come in useful for us." Adrian scribbled it down. "Anyway, next please!" "Is that my turn, Mom?" "Yes, it is, honey. Oh, sorry, I nearly forgot!" Rachel passed the letter of consent to Adrian. Gina started telling her version of events, taking it all very seriously. "Uncle Greg was picking me up from school, and when we got home there were all these people there. He didn't seem to mind them, only I asked him what a Jew fag was, and then he was really shocked and told me I should never use that word, and that these were bad people. Then we got out of the car, and we were walking through the door, and they weren't making space for Uncle Greg. He can't walk properly, so you always have to make space for him when he comes, and they didn't. It was like they wanted him to fall. I was really scared for him. And the next day we went to the zoo with the Foremans, and when we came back they were all sitting in Grampa and uncle Greg's parking space and we had to park fifty yards down the road and go back up because they wouldn't move." "I tried to reason with them", Foreman butted in. "But it was absolutely pointless." "Ok, Dr Foreman, thanks for that. You'll have to elaborate a bit when we come to you. What happened then, Gina?" "We went to McDonald's on Sunday, and they were still there, and the Reverend was preaching again." "Leviticus 18", Wilson furnished. "And uncle Greg heard that and got really mad and went and kissed the Reverend." "And that's exactly what you saw?" "Yes", Gina nodded vigorously. "Thanks, well done!"

Next in line for the witness accounts was Wilson. He thought for a moment before he started his story. "Do you want the three years of harassment again, from my perspective? Or is Mrs Kaminski's account good enough?" "I'd like it from your perspective, please. It seems she's seen more alright, but we need to know how it made you feel." "Well, in one word, annoyed. That was really it, all these pamphlets were too ridiculous to really engage with and being ignored in the lobby only hurts if the person you're being ignored by actually means anything to you. We could have happily lived out our lives without ever confronting him if it hadn't been for the picket." "And how did that make you change your attitude?" "In lots of ways. For starters, that way they involved everyone in the building in the conflict, and the neighbourhood, too, simply by being there, standing in people's way, making noise and so on. Then they were obviously not too fussed about people's safety. Dr House will strangle me for saying this when we get home, but he isn't steady on his feet and I worry when he gets stuck in a crowd that won't do him the basic courtesy of letting him through. Finally, we could have probably even put up with that in some way or other if they hadn't involved Gina." "So that's really the crunch point." Wilson nodded: "Yes, definitely. She shouldn't have to deal with that kind of thing at her age, and it affected her badly." "No it didn't!" Gina pouted. Wilson gave her a smile. "Yes, it did, and no one will think you're a baby if you admit to it, ok?" "Honestly?" "Promise!" "So what did it do to you, Gina?" Adrian asked. "It gave me a horrible dream. I dreamt these people had taken me away and were saying mean things about Mom and grandma and stuff, and were showing me one of those plays where you see what hell looks like." "She came into our bedroom crying that night", Wilson reported. "Wouldn't calm down till we let her crawl into bed with us. And that brings us to the next point - the Reverend alleged to the police that we... indulge in inappropriate behaviour with Gina." Adrian hesitated a little before he asked the next question. "And inappropriate behaviour would be?" "Well, what Mrs Kaminski already said, abusing her." Adrian took a note. "I grant you that's one hell of an allegation to put up with. So what exactly happened once they had started picketing your building?" "Dr House was out picking up Gina from school when I first noticed, and I tried to ignore it for a couple of minutes. Only they were too loud for me to do that, so I created my own counter noise - the gayest I could think of because they had really started to annoy me at that point." "What was that?" Wilson gave his sheepish little smile, making House want to kiss him very much. "Ethel Merman's greatest hits. I sat down on the balcony with the music and a bottle of chilled chardonnay. They want Jew fag, I'll give them Jew fag!" A chuckle went around the table. "And did they react?" "Not really. Pity, isn't it? Anyway, when Dr House and Gina came in we decided together that we were gonna try our best to ignore them, but unfortunately that wasn't possible. The police was called on them the next morning, not by us but by the janitor's family, the Garrisons. They live on the ground floor so they must have had most of the noise. They sent round officer McCarthy who, it seems, tried to reason with the Reverend but didn't succeed. Then he came to interview us and I think came away with the impression that we weren't the problem." "Ok, what happened next?" "We went to the zoo with Gina and the Foremans, and on our return had the first real confrontation because they had staged that sit-in in our parking space Dr Foreman already mentioned." "What did you do?" "Parked 50 yards up the road, anything else could have been construed as aggression by them." "True. That must have been difficult for you, Dr House..." "It would have been if I hadn't been using a wheelchair that day anyway." "And did they know that?" "As they had seen us leave I'd say so." "Do you think they'd have done the same if you'd been walking?" "Absolutely, they'd already proven they didn't give a shit about my well-being. And anyway, I did have to make my way back up the fifty yards on foot the next day, thanks to them." "Ok. Dr Wilson, what happened next?" "We went back in, again being pushed and shoved from all sides. Then later, during the night, Dr House had a bad pain attack." "Meaning?" "That he suffers from chronic pain in his injured leg. It gets worse when he's under stress, and that night it was so bad it woke him up. His face was grey. I hadn't seen him so bad in years. And it took... House how long did it take for your pain levels to get back to normal?" House shrugged. "Two or three days I guess. At least I went back to my regular amount of meds on Tuesday night. Can't really judge, though, because I was on all kinds of stuff on Monday" Adrian interrupted, obviously looking for confirmation: "So that means you were painfree then." House gave him a puzzled look. "If I meant that I'd have said it. I've been painfree twice since I was 40, once for three months after an experimental treatment and once for about a week when I tried methadone. All the usual treatment does is bring the pain down from excruciating to just about bearable." "So essentially you're in pain 24/7 and worsening pain levels are a symptom of emotional stress." "Yes." "By the way, what is it I hear about methadone there?" "I'm an addict, Vicodin mostly. I haven't taken anything for ten years now but I could never say with certainty I'm off it for good." Adrian jotted that down. "Is there anything else I should know about your mental state to make our case?" "Depends. Do you think it'll make a difference?" "Well, you tell me and I'll tell you." "Fine. Undiagnosed mood disorder with a tendency towards moderate to severe depression, manageable with Lamictal. History of addiction to prescription narcotics. Several accidental overdoses, last one about six months ago with Valium, all the other ones with narcotics. Abused during childhood. Difficulty with expressing emotion verbally, hence the tendency for stress to present as physical pain. One episode of acute psychosis when I was about fifty so I ended up in Mayfield." "The mental hospital?" "Yes. Anyway, that was to do with not being able to talk about things, too. Difficulty connecting with people... And probably post-traumatic stress. And I guess being in pain all the time doesn't help. Is there anything more you need?" Adrian whistled admiringly. "I don't think so, that'll either get you free or committed for life. Actually, I think our case would profit from getting you psychologically assessed by a court-approved expert." House rolled his eyes. "Can't you just use my medical records?" "No, the court wants them signed and stamped by one of their guys, you see." "Right... Just make an appointment for me. Don't worry, I'll be there. Anyway, Dr Wilson wasn't finished." "Indeed not. So what happened on Sunday?" "Well, more of them same really. Only this time when we were trying to get through the crowd again, the Reverend was preaching about Leviticus 18, and Dr House got so angry he went ahead and did what he did." "Most people would punch or kick their enemy then. Why do you think he chose to kiss him?" "Well, apart from the fact that he's physically unable to kick people, it just wouldn't be his style. We're pretty much the same in that, so I guess they wanted gay, he gave them gay. We went to McDonald's with Gina then, and when we got back officer McCarthy was already there to question us. And after we had taken Gina to school on Monday morning, just as we had thought right from the start, they were gone." "Ok, so that was everything from Friday to Monday. So, Dr House, why did it take you till Wednesday to call me and till Friday to meet up? Quite some timeframe for someone who wants a charge off their back." "We needed Monday to calm down from the weekend..." "... And the rest of the week was kind of my fault I guess" Wilson piped up. House narrowed his eyes. "How the hell was that your fault?" "Fine, so it wasn't. Thanks for absolving me. There was... An illness in my family. We had to look after someone till Friday." "Ok. Next please. What did you see, Mr O'Sullivan?" "Um... Just the kiss really. I was just coming back from the convenience store on the corner with some coke and popcorn, was gonna watch a movie with my roomie. I saw Dr House and Dr Wilson battling their way through the crowd and was wondering if they needed help and if I should run up. It all looked pretty scary from where I was standing, and the stuff the Reverend was saying and their placards and all... It must have all been pretty tough for them to take, and it looked kinda dangerous, too. They're both not great on their feet since Dr Wilson had the brain haemorrhage. Anyway, next thing I saw Dr House was shooting through the crowd and frenching the Reverend." "Shooting?" "Well, yeah, by his standards anyway. I don't know how he does it, must have to do with stress or something, but he can be pretty fast when he's pissed off." "Adrenaline is an amazingly powerful analgesic..." "So would you say he was provoked, Mr O'Sullivan?" "Definitely!" "And what happened then?" "Not much... Everyone seemed kinda stunned, Dr House and Dr Wilson and Gina went to the car and I went in."

Foreman was next to give his version of events. "Well, I only really saw five minutes of the whole thing", he started. "But they were quite significant, weren't they?" Adrian encouraged him. "I guess so. I'd known about the pamphlets and all, and Dr House had hinted that the situation had escalated while we were at the zoo, but actually seeing these guys in action was something else again. They were having that sit-in in the handicap space, which was bizarre in itself, and illegal. When I noticed what was happening I went to the Reverend and tried to reason with him as a fellow Christian, from whatever little common ground I have with him. Only he wouldn't even listen, just kept spurting his phrases..." "Which phrases?" "The usual suspects, all about fire and brimstone and Leviticus 18. Anyway, I tried for a couple of minutes but ended up getting pretty frustrated. We all went in then and tried to ignore them." "There was also that thing about the dignified protest", Wilson reminded him. "Oh yeah, of course. I told them they should go home before the cops made them, and the Reverend replied should the police try to remove them they'd continue their protest in a dignified and peaceful way or something. That was wrong on so many levels..." Adrian chuckled: "Interesting take on civil disobedience. I don't think it's what Dr King would have wanted, though." "Definitely not, his vision was inclusive. So... We went inside then and managed to ignore them quite well for the rest of the day. By the time I left they had vacated the parking space and were by and large behaving themselves, so I guess someone had called the police in the mean time, I don't know who, though." "That was Mrs Garrison", Jack said. "I heard her talking to the officer in the lobby." "Who is Mrs Garrison?" "The janitor's wife, they live on the ground floor", Wilson explained. "Nice woman." "Do you think she's seen much of this whole thing?" Adrian asked. "Probably not, except for the generally annoying aspect. Anyway, she's a busy woman. Unless..." House had an idea what he was up to. "No, she wouldn't be a good witness. I don't think she saw any of the key events." Adrian thought for a moment. "Ok... What if you got her as a character witness?" House snorted. "I would if I was of good character to start with..." "Huh?" "There's a shitload of dirt in my past, I don't want people to get ideas about digging any of it up." "Serious dirt?" "Well, sometimes I wonder how I usually managed to get away with it all at any rate." "Usually?" "I spent about a year in jail after doing something really stupid to Gina's grandma about thirty years ago. And I could have got unlucky another time..." He really didn't want to go into the finer details of the Tritter thing, particularly not Cuddy perjuring herself in his interest. Adrian, however, cocked an eyebrow anyway. "That must have been some stupid thing to land you in jail for a year. Here's hoping it wasn't of a sexu…" Rachel interrupted him: "It wasn't of a sexual nature. He drove his car through the living room wall after Mom dumped him. I was three. My first memory..." She pulled a face. "Thanks so much, House…" "Well I did apologise… Eventually…" "Eventually as in five years later. Anyway, it's all water under the bridge now." She gave him a wry smile. Gina looked horrorstruck: "You did WHAT?" "Something very very stupid, I said, didn't I?" "You could have killed grandma and Mom!" She was utterly indignant. "No, I made sure they weren't in the room first. I just wanted Cuddy to realise what she'd done to me." "Ever heard of talking to people?" "Yeah, I'm just not very good at it. You knew that, didn't you? Look, honestly, I know it wasn't the right thing to do, that's why I apologised." "You dumbass!" "Gina, you're not supposed to say words like that!" House shrugged: "Well, you can't deny that she has a point." He stretched his hand out for Gina to shake. "Friends?" She thought for a moment and then took it. "Ok. But you're still a dumbass." "I know…" Adrian went back to business: "Well, there's another one for the psych evalutation. And you're right, using character witnesses with that lurking in the shadows would be a bad move. Anyway, I guess we have quite enough tangible evidence round the table here to make it clear that you were acting under extreme provocation. So... I'll do some writing up now, and you good people are all free to go. I suggest you buy them all a drink, Dr House, and you'd better go to a place that serves pineapple juice, too." Gina grinned and nodded fervently. "Ok, we will", House told her, and they made their way out.

They did indeed find a place that served pineapple juice, and it was reasonably nice, too, a pizza parlour where the air was thick with the smells of garlic and freshly grated cheese. It had tables outside and a list of cheap and cheerful wines that looked very inviting indeed, and so they ended up spreading out a couple of bottles of Montepulciano until the sky turned red and Gina started yawning. "Bed time, sweetie!" Rachel decided, already getting up. "But I'm not tired!" "We'll see about that. And tomorrow is a school day, so it's time to go." "Just another slice of cassata, please? Grampa, I don't look tired, do I?" She yawned again. "Yes you do. I'll make cassata for you the next time you come, ok?" "Honestly? Promise?" "Promise. And you can help me if you want." "Oh yes! And uncle Greg can have some, too, if he's nice, right?" "And if I'm naughty I'll help myself from the freezer anyway..." "Surprisingly enough, we already knew that. Night, Gina, sweet dreams." Wilson hugged her good-bye. "Night Grampa, night Uncle Greg. Thanks for the pizza!" "Thanks for saving my ass... Hopefully." "Night, everyone!" Rachel gave Gina an encouraging little shove and they left. The rest shared out the last half a bottle of wine between them and then everyone went home.

House didn't feel at all like letting real life catch up with them immediately upon their return. "Is there still an open bottle around?" "Yeah, but that's only good for gravy now. Anyway, are you sure you should have more? You've almost exhausted your quota for the week." "Oh thanks, that was exactly what I needed to be told now. Nothing like a good kick in the nads for bringing people back to earth, huh? Great way you have of doing that!" "I don't, life does." "Wilson, well of wisdom..." "I'm sorry, House." "It's ok..." He accepted a short squeeze from Wilson and pulled on the headphones instead, letting Miles Davis's detached passion act as a parachute while Wilson immersed himself in the latest goings on from south of the border. House found the pictures of high drama and sobbing Chicanas rather distracting. "Which one's that? Todo por Amor or Amor Todo lo Vence?" "El Amor Prevalezca, it's a new one, about that totally hot Swedish au-pair and..." The words 'totally hot Swedish au-pair' were enough. House joined his beloved on the sofa with astonishing speed. After all, they had never actually forsaken the female form divine, had they? They sat huddled up together, commenting on the various female protagonists' physical merits and House felt like he didn't have a care in the world.


	11. Not all Irish Girls are Red Heads

House was still in a reasonably well-adjusted state of mind when he brought in the coffee the next morning, only to then be blasted with the full consequences of Wilson's extravagant pizza choice from the night before. He bounced back. What the hell was that? Garlic, at least three different kinds of extremely smelly cheese, anchovies, a sour top note of wine... He didn't dare to analyse further. "HOLY FUCK, brush your teeth, your breath could kill a Jew!" "My breath could do WHAT?" Wilson shook his head. "You know that's wrong on just about every level imaginable, right? Including the factual one" - he theatrically felt his own pulse - "Unless it's a pretty long-acting poison." But he got up and brushed his teeth anyway, then blasted House again with nice, sanitary fake spearmint, "Better?" They kissed. "You don't exactly smell of roses yourself, by the way." "Riiiiiight..." House went for an intense teeth-brushing session and, given the state of their bathroom pipes, a rather perfunctory wash. When he came into the kitchen Wilson was just dumping the pancakes onto his plate. "Bacon or maple syrup?" "Both, thanks." Wilson did as asked. "Enjoy!" House tucked in with his customary enthusiasm, until he bit on something hard. He removed it from his mouth, a small, black object, oblong with... Six... "WILSON!" "Huh?" "Look!" "What?" "A... Cockroach! In my pancake! I know it's the time of year, but..." Wilson looked a little too innocent to be innocent. "Oh House, I'm so, so sorry, I don't know where that could have come from." House grinned. "It's plastic, right?" "Yup, I didn't exactly want to make you puke." "How very considerate of you." It was a good start to the day.

After breakfast Wilson returned to the duties he had been somewhat neglecting recently, namely finding treatment options for his non-patient Ms Karamoulis. They'd already got Chase to remove the tumour, and she was doing well recovering from the surgery, but that was only part one. Smallcell in someone so young was bad news no matter how well the removal of the tumour had gone. He clicked himself through various clinical trial databases. "Do you think she'd be ready to travel?" "Do you think she has the money?" "Shit... I better limit it to the east coast, huh?" "Well I guess you could include some of Canada..." "Yeah..." Wilson fell silent again, not even reacting when the phone rang, so House picked it up. "Larry's bathroom supplies, Ross speaking. Could I talk to Dr Wilson?" "He can't come to the phone right now, this is his toy boy." "Oh, right, could you ask him to call me back?" "Naw, he'll still be stuck there for a while. You might as well talk to me, I'm the one who needs the accessible Jacuzzi." Ross chuckled. "Some toy boy." "I'm serving a niche market, ok? So what can you do for me?" "Well, I talked to our suppliers, and they're actually putting a new modular system on the market. Walls, bottoms, jets, seats, doors, all separately, so we could put one together exactly the way you need it. You'd be our first customers for this, so would you mind if we took a couple of pictures for our advertising?" "Depends on how far you're ready to lower the price." "I'd have to talk to my boss about that, but I see your point. Listen, why don't we fix a time for our accessibility consultant to see you guys and take it from there." "Sounds good. And make it snappy, we can't shower here right now." "Let's see... There's a slot available for tomorrow afternoon, how does that sound?" "Fine with me, but let me ask my lord and master. Wilson? Are we in tomorrow afternoon?" "Depends..." "They're gonna send round someone about the bathroom!" "Oh, cool, yeah, we are!" "The lord hath spoken. So when's he gonna be here?" "She. Half three ok with you?" "Yeah, ok." "Who am I speaking, to, by the way? Or is Dr Wilson's toy boy your registered name?" "No, my Dad wouldn't have allowed that. Dr Greg House." "Ok, Dr House. I've got you down for tomorrow, have a nice day!" "I'll try my best, bye!" "Bye!" "Wilson, the accessibility consultant is coming tomorrow at half three!" "Wow, they've got an accessibility consultant? Random numbers from the yellow pages, you can't beat them. Hey, ever heard of Dr Nyquist at Sloan Kettering?" "Erm... No? But that's your area, so you're supposed to have heard of him." "Guess so. Anyway, he's running a trial on smallcell in young patients." "So why the hell are you still talking to me? Get on the phone!" Wilson came into the room smiling and took the phone. "You're right." House was beginning to feel suspicious, this day was going far too well...

House's cell rang. "Hi, Adrian Gimignano, are you free tomorrow afternoon?" "No, why?" "I could get a psychiatrist to assess you then." House shuddered. Even if he had been free tomorrow afternoon, this would have been the time for a good excuse - or any excuse really, including sorry darling, I have a migraine. He definitely needed more than a day and a half to psych himself up for that assessment, and he had pretty much blocked it from his mind ever since yesterday's meeting. "How about Friday then?" "Afternoon?" "Yes, he'd be free around three." House sighed sepulchral. "I guess that's ok." "Right, I'll let him know." House took the address, a residential area. Hm. Only after putting down the phone he realised he had never asked Adrian the guy's name. He shrugged it off, the address would probably be enough. "What's the sigh about?" "Loon test on Friday." "So? The guy's not gonna bite and he'll keep your ass out of jail, what more do you want?" "It's not like there's any danger of my ass ever being thrown INTO jail, is there? Not at my age and not for a kiss." Wilson shrugged: "The best way of avoiding fate getting back at you is still to be prepared, so you might as well learn to like it." Another heavy sigh. "I guess so..." Still, he didn't like it. The idea of opening up to a stranger, even with such a clear purpose as in this case and the stranger being opened up to for a living, just didn't work for him. Well, really the idea of opening up to anyone but - reluctantly - Wilson didn't work for him.

Ah well, still two days to go and at least there'd be the fun of Jacuzzi-planning in-between, nice. "Wilson?" "Huh?" "Two separate seats or a bench?" "WHAT?" "For the Jacuzzi, duh!" Wilson shrugged. "You're the one who'll have to be comfortable in it, so it's totally up to you." "So you're not gonna use it?" "Of course I am, but I don't need heavy machinery to enjoy it." "Heavy machinery... All I'm asking for is a door..." "And once you're in there? Get a bench, and make sure it can be lowered into the water." "HA! So you do have an opinion!" "No, I'm not voicing an opinion, I'm merely suggesting you do the sensible thing. You know? That thing I've been doing for the past fifty years?" "Ah yes, that. You mean like getting yourself charged for criminal damage over a fucking Billy Joel song. A GOOD fucking Billy Joel song even." "You'll write that on my tombstone, won't you?" "Yep!" "And to think that without that we'd never have met. Are you sure you have reason to complain?" "Who was complaining? Anyway... Yeah... I see your point about the Bench. Do you think they do tables and cup holders?" "And champagne coolers?" "A beer cooler is good enough for me. Mmmmmmmm... This is gonna be cool..." They happily planned away for quite a while until House had once again successfully blocked the psychiatrist's appointment from his mind.

Only Wilson knew that, too. "So... ARE you actually psyching yourself up for that assessment?" Prick... Phooooosh... "Thanks a lot..." "You'll have to start eventually." "Yes, uncle Jimmy!" Another sigh. "I really really don't want to do this." Wilson put his arm around him. "You managed it once, and you were desperately ill then. This will be a breeze by comparison." "Yeah, right..." "So what's so bad? You're stable, you're happy, you're coping. You've nothing to hide, no underlying agenda, you'll be able to just walk in there, answer a couple of questions, walk back out, and I'll have a bourbon poured for you when you get back, how does that sound?" "Stable my ass... You know what happened when you were sick last winter." "And you admitted to it, we talked about it, everything turned out fine." A big hug. "Everyone's allowed the occasional slip. And you did so well then, being there for me, sorting things out with Danny, thickening my coffee..." "What was that like, by the way?" "Disgusting. Anyway, you'll be just fine talking to that psychiatrist. And, hey... I'm proud of you, ok?" "Nothing there to be proud of." "Lots... You want me to repeat it?" But Wilson didn't need to, the idea of actually being ok was slowly thinking in. Yes, he had done well. Forget the overdose, outside that he had really achieved something. "Jimmy?" "Uhu..." "Love you!" "Love you, too."

The next morning, before House had even started considering the idea of getting up from the breakfast table, Wilson started cleaning in a manner that, as far as House was concerned, could only be described as frantic. Far from his usual morning ritual of wiping down the surfaces and rinsing the crockery for the dishwasher he had actually started to wash down the cabinet doors with soapy water, and was in the middle of getting up on a chair to reach to the very top by the time House had managed to pull his lower jaw back up. "Wilson..." "Yes?" "What the hell?" "It's called cleaning, prevents rat infestation." "Only the place is as clean as on any regular Thursday, you haven't even finished your second cup of coffee, and Mrs Krummbichler is coming tomorrow. I'm pretty sure another 24 hours with microscopic soup splashes on the doors won't bring the rats in. Not to mention that there are more entertaining ways of breaking your neck than standing on kitchen chairs with a bad leg. If you want the top doors cleaned, give me the dishcloth!" "Only you have that talent of wiping AROUND the stains..." "Which is why we're paying Mrs Krummbichler to do that for us. And now sit down and finish your coffee!" Wilson got off the chair and sat down on it. "I just don't want this place to look like we're too old or too crippled or whatever to take care of it anymore, ok?" House raised his eyebrows. "And why the sudden self-consciousness? Anyway, it doesn't look that way, it looks FINE!" "Just as long as that person coming this afternoon thinks the same..." "Wilson, you're not serious, are you? This is someone who's trying to sell us something, not an inspector from social services the neighbours have sent round to investigate that strange smell. And I don't know why the fuck she'd come into the kitchen... If anywhere you'd want to do the bathroom really..." "...and the living room. It's all up next." "No it's not. What's up next is another cup of coffee and the paper. And then I'LL wipe down the top of the doors, because they look stupid half-finished. After that we'll take a couple of cans and go for a swim. Geez, I knew you were neurotic, but..." "I just don't want that girl to think we're not capable of running our own lives, ok?" "And why would she think that? And why would you even care? She'll build us a Jacuzzi, we'll pay her, we'll never see her again. If you were worried in that way about someone who actually matters, I'd see your point, but in this case, no. For fuck's sake, finish your coffee!" "It's cold now..." "Oh dear, what shall we do? The coffee is cold!" House poured him a new cup. "Honestly, I know you like people to think the best of us, and that's fine. But it doesn't matter with everyone, ok?" "I guess so..." "And if you feel you're falling behind with the housework we'll get Mrs Krummbichler to come three times a week, no big deal." "Ok..." Wilson smilingly took a sip of coffee. "I guess you're right, let's just have a relaxing day for a change." "Exactly..." They finished breakfast and went down to the pool.

Still, it wasn't like House wasn't nervous about that person coming in the afternoon, his dislike of having strangers around had definitely contributed to his habit of putting off renovations until pipes broke and walls collapsed. Actually... He shuddered... The thought that that woman's visit would only be the start to at least a week of serious disruption to his home life gave him the creeps. "Wilson..." "Yeah?" "We're going away somewhere for the time these bathroom guys are here, right?" "So... Who's gonna let them in and make sure they're not helping themselves to all our worldly possessions?" "Ella? Or Mrs Garrison? Someone is bound to be here. And you don't seriously want to wash in the kitchen sink for at least a week, do you?" "Now you come to mention it... So where are we going?" House shrugged; he hadn't really given the matter much thought yet. "Anywhere non-humid within driving distance I guess." "The Vineyard?" "Ew, and look respectable for at least a week? No way!" "Right, so I guess that rules out Cape Cod, too..." "Definitely... How about Sag Harbor?" "I thought you said non-humid?" "Shit... Why don't we find us a cottage somewhere in Maine?" Wilson nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah... Wells Beach, somewhere between the sea and the woods..." "Make sure you have a good chat with the wood nymphs, Stagman, I could do with some hot lovin'..." "Oh God, aren't you hilarious? And it still wasn't me in those... scenes." "Who cares as long as it still annoys you?" "Don't you think it's kind of pathetic you can't think of anything to annoy me that happened less than 50 years ago?" "Aw, be not afraid!" Wilson face palmed. House giggled. "By the way, if you're looking for something more recent for me to annoy you with in a long life of stupid decisions I'm sure I could come up with it." Wilson sighed. "Not really. At least that movie didn't hurt anyone." Ouch... Things had now left the level of light-hearted fun. "Come here..." Wilson swam over. House enjoyed running his hands down his wet back. "You looked hot in that movie, ok? Even with the headgear." Wilson smiled. "Thanks..." They swam to the edge and clinked beer cans to stupid decisions.

Between emptying a couple of illicit cans - there was really a no alcohol in communal areas rule in place in their building, but House had chosen to consider that as not applicable to himself and, by extension, everyone close enough to him to share a drink with - and a drawn-out lunch House had finally managed to psych himself up for a stranger entering his abode and Wilson had actually got round to the idea that she might even be young, attractive and worth looking at, so when the doorbell rang a good five minutes after the accessibility consultant was actually supposed to come they didn't even bother to get up. "Come in, door's open!" House shouted from the sofa where he was stretched out with his feet dangling over the armrest as was his wont. The door opened and House crooked his head around the back of the sofa to see if she was indeed worth looking at. "Howya, lads, I'm Bronagh, your accessibility consultant!" Ok... That was unexpected on several levels. For starters, House had never even been addressed as a lad when he had been one, and then... Well... In his experience girls called Bronagh who conversed in that mode of speech were usually neither coffee-colour nor adorned with Asian features. She laughed. "Me da is Nigerian and Mom is Chinese. You can close your mouth now." Wilson was the first to react. "Wow... You must have stood out a bit as a kid." "Not really, at least half the families in my neighbourhood were migrants. Actually I get far more gawks here than I ever did at home." "Home being?" "Balbriggan, County Dublin. Not that that would mean anything to yiz. Anyway, are we doing the planning here on the coffee table or do you want to move to the kitchen?" She had already peeked in there, obviously looking for some more suitable furniture to spread out drafting paper. "Yeah, that makes sense." They relocated to the kitchen and Bronagh chose to sit down facing House. "You must be Greg. So... Apart from what I've just seen, what's your ability level?" Whoa... First names? But then this girl seemed so disarmingly out-front that House found it hard to be aloof with her - and she WAS actually pretty cute. "Well, what you've just seen pretty much nails it, this is me on an average day." "So... You have good days and bad days?" "Yup! It's mainly a pain thing. On good days all I need to get around is a cane, though that's rare and getting rarer. On bad days I need a wheelchair. That's rare, too, but it's bound to increase." "Ok, so what we're really looking for here is a fully wheelchair-accessible Jacuzzi." House felt more hesitant about that than he liked to admit. "Yeah, I guess so." "Uh, Jimmy, what about you? Any fluctuations?" "Not really, actually still getting better... I hope. You'll definitely want to concentrate on House with this." Bronagh raised her eyebrows. "You're on second name terms with your partner?" Wilson shrugged. "Why fix something if it ain't broken? We've been on second name terms ever since we met, and that was over fifty years ago, so obviously we're doing something right." "Fair enough... Greg, I need you, your bathroom and a wheelchair."

House hadn't really expected that. "Why?" "Well, if you want to be able to use the Jacuzzi on a bad day I'll have to assess you as if it was a bad day, right? And I need to see how you're getting around there at the moment so we can make it better." Well, that made sense. He got the wheelchair and they all congregated around the bathroom door. "Jayzis, how old is THAT? Did you nick that from a medical supplies museum?" House shrugged. "No, the orthopaedics department, they're probably still looking for it. Anyway, it does the job for me, so why get another one?" "Fair enough. Ok, now pretend it's a total shite day, how do you get in and out of the tub?" House went to demonstrate, step by step, and even though he had generally felt ok all day, he was hurting quite a bit by the time he had completed the dry run. OUCH! He had never really contemplated how much effort it was to heave one bad leg and one bad hip joint over the edge of a bathtub, it had just always been a part of life. And as the bathroom had never been intended for wheelchair use, even getting into position from where he could actually get into it posed quite some challenge in itself. Bronagh marvelled. "And you're only thinking about refurbishing now?" "I don't like a bunch of strangers tearing up the place if I can avoid it." "Well, now you'll just have to put up with it, lads. Anyway, I've seen all I need to see, let's get down to planning this."

They went back to the kitchen and Wilson took over for the moment. "Well, we need an accessible shower, that Jacuzzi and the rest, and as you can see neither of us is particularly short, so I guess the main challenge here is space." "It is indeed. Do you want to be able to lie down in it?" "Of course!" What kind of stupid question was that? "And both at the same time, if in any way possible." Bronagh smiled. "This sure makes a change from all the ADA-grant work I usually get. Most people seem to think their life is over once they need accessible bathroom fittings. Nice to see you two old fellas actually having fun with them." House shrugged. "I became a cripple when I was forty; I wasn't quite ready to stop having fun then." Wilson put his arm around him. "Good thing you're still not..." "I know, if it wasn't for me you'd live like Ned Flanders." "No I wouldn't!" Wilson was indignant. "Fine, Rabbi Krustofski. You sure as hell wouldn't be given stripograms for your birthday or invest in decadent Jacuzzis!" Wilson grinned. "Are you sure?" "I think you might have got yourself a still water there, Greg", Bronagh winked. "Are you sure you know what he's doing when you're not looking?" "Yes, stopping at all the red lights when he's playing GTA, so forget that, he needs me to have a life!" "I also managed to con you into thinking I was dating a hooker and paying her college fees that time. You should know that, House, it's DANGEROUS to underestimate me." "Ok, let's call it a draw."

Bronagh brought them back to the matter at hand. "Well, while you've been busy slagging each other off I've actually sketched out something here." She pointed around the drawing she had just made. "A six by four Jacuzzi should do you fine, we could put that into far corner. The shower would be right next to the door, and we could put the toilet and the basin on the long wall across. How does that sound to you?" Both scrutinised the drawing. Wilson nodded slowly. "I like it. House?" "Yeah, me, too. Do you have electric benches for those Jacuzzis, ideally for two?" Bronagh checked the catalogue. "How about this? It goes into the side. You could sit on it or use it to help you down into the water. Then you could slide off it and lie down." "Yeah, good. And I need adjustable jets, I'd go through the ceiling with a full blast on a bad day." "Ok..." Bronagh did some looking again. "Yeah... We could build in one of these pressure dials so you could adjust the power. Do you need the jets in particular places?" "Not really, as long as I can be sure they won't hurt me." Bronagh scribbled all that down. "...and a wheelchair-width door, just to be sure to be sure. Does that sound good to you?" "Yeah..." House left the whole area of what their new bathroom should look like to Wilson. They had never really been able to agree on matters of design and he knew Wilson would be a willing sheep to whatever Bronagh suggested, which, judging by her appearance, would probably be cool. By the time they signed the contract and a cost estimate, and agreed a date for the work to begin the afternoon was nearly over and they felt like the bathroom company would get the shirts off their backs, but it felt worth it, too.

On the downside, the earliest date the bathroom guys had to offer for starting the work was, of all times, June 10th which was sort of a bummer because House had really looked forward to having his birthday breakfast being pummelled by adjustable water jets, but then if that was all he had to complain about he was obviously in a good place on the whole. At least he hoped he was, it would make meeting the psychiatrist a lot easier. He stretched and put on some Pink Floyd for relaxation. "Meow!" "Hi buddy..." Henry jumped into his lap, adamant to be petted, and he did him the favour until he became aware of inarticulate expressions of enthusiasm from Wilson's general direction. "Huh?" Wilson wordlessly handed him a leaflet. House wordlessly browsed it. It had various pictures of kitchenware on it, pots and pans mainly. It also featured such words as "Promotion", "Up to 70% off" And "Le Creuset". "Wow, pots..." "Do I detect a hint of sarcasm there?" "Oh no, not at ALL! I'm sure there is a model of potato pot somewhere in the universe that you haven't bought yet, so you better rush off now..." "The promotion isn't on till Tomorrow. And, by the way, when did you last count your guitars?" Shit, touché... House let Wilson know with a smile. "So when are you planning on going there?" "Erm... I guess I could drop you off at that guy's office on the way, that ok with you?" "Guess so... And you better inaugurate that pot with something exceptionally good." "Is it ever not?" "Show-off!" House thought for a moment. "Why not sacrifice a lamb, just in case the Reverend is right?" "I suppose you want me to sacrifice some potatoes and various fruit of the field, too?" "And plenty of garlic and rosemary. Just to enhance the pleasant fragrance unto the lord of course." Wilson nodded. "Oh of course! Do you think it'll be ok with the lord if I only sacrifice the rack, though? A whole lamb is a bit much between two people." "I'm sure as long as you pour on plenty of wine to enhance the pleasant fragrance unto him even more he'll be just fine with that." Their eyes met and they started laughing. Still not boring...


	12. Psychiatry and Kitchen Ware

Wilson was ridiculously attentive the next morning, starting with macadamia nut pancakes for breakfast instead of the usual bog standard ones and not even once mentioning the idea that Mrs Krummbichler might have a go tackling the mess on top of the piano like he usually did on Friday mornings. "Wilson, what the hell?" "Huh?" "Just tell me what you're up to!" "Nothing, promise!" "Yes you are! Not a single Friday goes by in this place without you bitching about my dirty mugs on the piano, so what is it?" "Fine, I've given up, ok?" "Given up my ass! You've been pestering me about my mess for over thirty years, you're not gonna stop now. And you never make my favourite pancakes on a regular Friday either." "House, some people actually have the ability to be nice to others just for the hell of it. I know that might come as a surprise to you, but it's still the way it is, so stop second guessing me!" "I'll stop second guessing you when I stop having to, so the sooner you tell me what's going on the sooner I'll stop." Wilson sighed and put down the paper. "Fine, all I'm trying to do is to help you relax, is that fine with you?" "Well yeah, as long as it involves macadamia nut pancakes, but why?" "Because otherwise you'll end up driving yourself round the bend about that stupid psychological assessment, and I don't want that to happen. If there's any other way I can help your frame of mind, just let me know." "Well now you're asking... Been to see the wood nymphs recently?" Wilson smiled impishly. "On a Friday morning?" House consulted his watch. "We still have half an hour till Mrs Krummbichler comes..."

When the cleaner did come, exactly half an hour later to the minute, she was received by two more than usually dishevelled-looking gentlemen and a suggestion that obviously took her by considerable surprise, due to both its contents and the smile it was delivered with. "Do you think you have time to tidy up the piano a bit today? Don't get rid of anything without showing me first, though!" House was treated to two simultaneous gawks. "Dr Wilson, what did you do with him?" "Are you sure you want the details?" Wilson was grinning from ear to ear. "Come to think of it, probably not." She smilingly went to remove the dirty mugs from the piano, then tackled all the paper. House decided immediately to let her do that more often, for starters it was actually nice to have a clean piano every now and then, and then the way she pronounced the names of the composers on the sheet music reminded him of Lydia, in a happy sad sort of way. He wondered what had become of her, if they could have worked out had they tried... Wilson looked at him. "Lydia?" "Yeah, how did you know?" "If there's been anyone else in your life who pronounced Beethoven that way you've so far failed to tell me." "There hasn't been. I'm still wondering if we could have worked out." "I'm still wondering the same about amber every now and then." Wilson shrugged. "But then there's no point in any of that. We are where we are now. And I guess it could be worse." "Yeah..." Wilson was right, all in all the way life had thrown them together had worked out in a way nothing else had ever had for them. And House felt ready for just about anything now, Wilson's love bomb had done its job supremely well. Just as long as it would keep till the afternoon...

Wilson started pacing the floor well ahead of time once again. Judging by the address, the psychiatrist's office was about ten minutes away, and they both knew that the kitchen store wasn't much further, yet Wilson started shooting House glares at least half an hour before they actually had to go anywhere, which he rigorously ignored - tinkering around with some ancient sheet music Mrs Krummbichler had uncovered from the sediments was much more fun than shaving or ironing a shirt after all. Wilson looked at his watch again. "It's twenty to three, are you actually gonna shave?" "I thought you wanted me to relax?" House put on his big-eyed innocent one, hehe, touché! Wilson resignedly shook his head and started a conversation with Henry instead. "Wilson, you're talking to a cat!" "Yes, and you can be sure it's more constructive than talking to you!" It was almost ten to three by the time eventually House got up from the piano and pulled on a shirt and a pair of Converses. "Ready, are you coming?" "I don't believe it..." Wilson took the car keys with an abysmal sigh and they left.

They arrived at the psychiatrist's office about two minutes behind schedule, which had Wilson roll his eyes in despair. House grinned at him. "See ya, sweetcheeks!" "If you're lucky... Call me when you're done in there, ok?" "Ok..." House made his way to the door of what actually looked like a private residence slightly more laboriously than he thought strictly necessary. He was relaxed, right? All in all, that was the way he felt, yet his leg didn't seem to agree, shit. He rang the doorbell. "Come in, the door is open!" A British voice, warm and velvety. He opened the door and went in. "In here!" He turned into a room on the right, with book-lined walls, a substantial wooden desk and leather armchairs, very much his idea of an old-fashioned study in some place like Oxford University. The man he gathered to be his companion for the next hour or so got up from the behind the desk, for a very long time, and came towards him. Whoa! House really wasn't used to looking up at people, but this guy was easily two inches taller than him. He scrutinised his face, up there, wondering how someone that tweedy-looking had ended up with a broken nose. Humorous blue eyes, lighter than his, a slightly ironic smile, and the whole set-up well beyond retirement age, interesting. They met about halfway across the room and the psychiatrist proffered his hand. "What a pleasure to meet you, Dr House. I am Dr Wyatt."

"Nice to meet you..." House muttered and sat down in what looked like an extremely comfortable armchair nearby. "Do you always do that?" "Do what?" "Sit down uninvited..." WTF? "Cripple's prerogative, ok?" "You do relish your cripple status, don't you?" "Relish? What the hell? Would you relish being in pain 24/7?" "On the upside, it means you just about get away with murder..." "I'm sure someone at Eton must have taught you that there's a vast difference between sitting down uninvited and intentional homicide." Dr Wyatt made a note. "I did not go to Eton, but aside from that - when was the last time someone called you out on undesirable behaviour?" "About half an hour ago as a matter of fact." "And who was that?" "Wilson bitched at me about running late and said it was more constructive to talk to the cat than to me." "And Wilson is..." "...my life-partner." "You're on second name terms with your life-partner?" "Well it works for us, if that's fine with you!" "Fair enough... " He made another note. "So, when was the last time anyone EXCEPT Wilson called you out on undesirable behaviour?" "What makes you think that makes a difference?" "So does it?" "Yes..." House grudgingly admitted. "Why do you think it does?" House shrugged. "He cares I guess. And by the way, he's not the only one." "Who cares or who calls you out on your behaviour?" "Both? The two obviously go together." "Good point. Dare I make the assumption that it's still a rather select group of people who do?" "Yes, about two or three." "And the rest?" "Don't want to hurt a cripple and therefore they shut up. My lawyer is not gonna bill me for this session in order to find that out, is he? Cos honestly, I've known it for a while." "Interesting... You obviously resent the fact that most people can't look beyond your disability, yet you're quite happy to hide behind it. Do you like dodging responsibility?" "WHAT?" "Well that's one reason why you're here, isn't it? You did something stupid and don't want to face the consequences, hence you're looking for a psychiatric carte blanche saying it wasn't really your fault. A carefully formulated one, of course, that doesn't make you out to be crazy enough to need in-patient treatment. Just one that says leave the poor old geezer alone, he can't help it, so you can go home and forget about the whole thing. By the way, if Adrian bills you for this you can sue him for fraud, I'm not charging him. I just took your case because I thought it sounded interesting." Oh... Something they did have in common after all... Not that House was going to admit it. "Did anyone ever tell you that you look like General Melchett?" "Did anyone ever tell you that you look like Lieutenant George? Anyway, are you sure that is the way you want to spend the next" - he consulted his watch - "45 minutes? You might as well be constructive, we might get a better evaluation out of it and hence a better chance to get you acquitted."

Ok, yes, that made sense. House leant back in his chair. "Ok, so as far as you're concerned I did actually commit a crime and should pay for it." "Well, you committed a crime. Whether you should pay for it is essentially the object of this session. So... I know it must be annoying at this stage, but could you give me your version of the events?" House gave a full, detailed account of the Reverend's behaviour over the past three years in general and the weekend of the picket in particular for what seemed like the 97th time. "So what you are saying is that you were provoked..." "Severely so..." "How do you think someone else would have reacted to the provocation?" "Kicked the jerk where it hurts? Called the cops a lot earlier? Got the block association involved? No idea, not being someone else." "Why do you think you let him away with it all that time until the picket?" "For starters, it was actually pretty funny at first. Then later I kept on ignoring it for Wilson's sake, he can't deal with confrontation. And really I didn't care that much, it was only when he involved our granddaughter and the entire apartment building that things came to a heed." "And that was that weekend." "Yes..." "Do you think you provoked your neighbour, too?" "Yes, by existing." "That sounds a little too simple." "It's still the truth, Occam's Razor. If a Jew and a gentile in a same-sex relationship share an apartment building with a homophobic anti-Semite the latter one is probably gonna be annoyed. And that we're unrepentant atheists while he's a fundamentalist preacher doesn't help matters either." "Some people would just move out..." "WHAT? That asshole has been there for three years, we've been there for twenty!" "It might still be a solution." "No it's not, it's just running away." "So you don't like running away?" "Um... I CAN'T run away." "Mentally you're doing it all the time, like right now. You're digressing by hiding behind your cripple status again. Do yourself a favour and think! Do you think any other person than yourself and your nearest and dearest would see the point of your action and forgive you for it if you were able-bodied and mentally stable?" House very much wished for a ball to toss against the wall. Good one...

House sat and thought. It had been a very long time since he had been able-bodied and, for all he could see, an even longer one since he had been stable. Dr Wyatt smiled. "Why don't I get us a cup of coffee while you think about that?" He got up from his desk. "I thought you Brits were into tea?" "It took me a long time to master making coffee, so don't knock it! Won't be a minute." Dr Wyatt left the room. House sat there thinking, trying to remember when he had last felt normal and what he'd have had to say about force-frenching an asshole under provocation. He looked around for something to play with, just to keep his mind on track damn, no balls, nothing to bang on, nothing to make any sort of rhythmic sound or movement with. Instead - wow, was that guy serious? What an extremely silly, careless thing to do! There was an open file on Dr Wyatt's desk and he could just about make out that it very much didn't say Gregory House on it. Hmmmmm - surely a fleeting glimpse couldn't do any harm? He could just about reach it if he stretched out, so he did and pulled it towards him. Special Agent Seeley Booth – oh, interesting, Dr Wyatt was looking after FBI-personnel. He began to flick through it. Shooting a plastic clown on an ice-cream truck? That was worth a major snort, who was the freak now? The guy had remembered the precise number of bricks he had used to build a barbecue, talk about anal-retentive. Sexual disorientation? What? Dear oh dear, no, not really, there was no way this guy was anything but 150% straight. Still, holy shit! Suddenly House felt very normal indeed by comparison. He grinned as he got deeper and deeper into reading the history of that agent booth, wondering if he'd ever really got it on with that Brennan person. "Interesting?" He jerked up. There was Dr Wyatt, carrying a tray with coffee and delicious-looking chocolaty things. "Yes, actually. There's no way that guy was gay!" "You're right, he wasn't." He set down the tray and laid the occasional table, then sat down in the other armchair and poured the coffee. "Milk? Sugar?" "Sugar, two spoons. What's that chocolaty stuff?" "Chocolate and chilli thins, tuck in!" That was an invitation he didn't feel like being polite about. "Mmmm, they're good." For some reason it was much easier to compliment a total stranger on his cooking than Wilson - who he'd have to tell about these cookies, they were amazing. "So, how did reading special agent Booth's file make you feel?" House first had to swallow, three chocolate and chilli thins at the same time were too much to talk through. "Normal." "Normal in which way?" "Well at least I've never shot a plastic clown on an ice cream truck! Or counted the number of bricks needed to build a barbecue." "When did you last build one?" "Dunno, I was probably still in middle school or younger. It was the kind of thing my Dad liked to do with me." "And after middle school your Dad didn't do things with you anymore?" "We had a difficult relationship." "In which sense?" "He was an officer in the marines, spent his entire working life knocking sense into hayseeds. I guess he figured what worked for them would also work for me. Only it didn't." "Was he physically abusive?" "Not in a way that left bruises. Most people would have called him a strict disciplinarian, no more." "And what would you call him?" House shrugged. "I'm not sure. There were times when I'd have called him a jerk and no more, but that's really too simple. We did have our good times, only when times were bad they were very bad." "What did he do?" "After I confronted him about not being my biological father, he put me into solitary in my room and communicated via notes under the door all summer. Outside that ice-baths, being made to sleep in the shed, being grounded in my room for not taking out the trash to his liking - he wasn't randomly cruel or anything, just way over the top." "Do you think it would have been different if you had been his own?" "No, that was just the way he was. I think if a biological son of his had been like me he'd have acted the same. He wanted a soldier, he got a precocious little freak." "You seem to base a lot of your identity on the idea that you're a freak." "Well I am!" "Are you? You just said that reading Agent Booth's file made you feel normal." "Yeah, by comparison. Talking to my brother in law makes me feel normal, too. He's a paranoid schizophrenic." "Alright, so let's look at your predicament from a comparatively normal point of view. If Agent Booth had done what you did, what would you think?" "I'd think he's an idiot. But then I think that about most people most of the time." "But would you see his point?" "Yes, he would have been acting under severe provocation and emotional stress." "So you'd forgive him?" "Yes." "Right, now we're getting somewhere." Were they? House wasn't quite sure, but he was beginning to enjoy this. If nothing else, Dr Wyatt was certainly interesting to talk to.

At the end of the session, House was feeling somewhat raw and vulnerable, he had let Dr Wyatt in a lot further than he had originally intended, told him more about his childhood, the relationships in his life, the way becoming a cripple had affected him... WHOA! He called Wilson. "If you're done buying your fifth potato pot you can pick me up. Otherwise I'll take a cab." "For your information, I only have two potato pots, a big one and a small one, and that hasn't changed. I'll see you in ten minutes, ok?" "Ok..." He pressed red and made to leave, not quite sure where to sit and wait. Dr Wyatt smiled. "Feel free to sit back down, there's still coffee and biscuits left." Oh indeed... He helped himself to another cup and two more. "These are good, Wilson would be impressed." "I trained as a chef after retiring from full time psychiatry, so if he ever wants to swap recipes..." "Don't say that to him, we'd be here for the rest of the night." Dr Wyatt was easy to banter with, House could actually imagine being friends with him.

Eventually Wilson turned up, exactly on time. "God, you're anal, couldn't you even be late once in your life?" "But then you'd be disappointed cos you'd have nothing to bitch about. Wow, these look good, what are they?" "Chocolate and chilli thins. You may ask Dr Wyatt for this one recipe." "Well how very good of you." He tried one. "Mmmmmmm... Dr Wyatt, may..." The multi-talented psychiatrist had already printed it out. "Enjoy!" "Thanks!" "Well, I think I know all I need to for a comprehensive assessment now, so I suppose I'll see you in court. Don't stress yourself out about it, it won't do you any good. Bye for now!" "Bye..." They left, Wilson happily clutching the official world's best cookie recipe in his hot little hand. There were a couple of huge shopping bags on the backseat, presenting House with a slight problem. "Um..." "Oh, sorry!" Wilson chucked the bags into the trunk, leaving the backseat free for the walker. For all House could see, his main problem with getting older was that the stuff he needed to keep himself vertical got more and more cumbersome, fuck knew what he'd do if he he'd ever have to use a wheelchair full-time. They got into the car. "You ok?" Wilson lightly squeezed his hand. "Yeah..." There would probably be bad dreams tonight, but there was absolutely no need to worry Wilson with that before it actually happened.

When they got home, Wilson immediately plonked the biggest bag on the seat of House's walker. "Can you handle that? Thanks!" "Guess so. What is it anyway?" "You'll see..." Wilson looked like a six year old with his Mom's birthday present behind his back, making House smile. Upstairs, he immediately whisked all his nice new possessions away into the kitchen, but then just couldn't help himself and shared his joy anyway. "Whoa, House, look at that!" House peeked into the kitchen without getting up from the sofa. "Wow, it's an ancient Sumerian baby coffin!" Wilson was indignant. "No it's not, it's a Römertopf!" "Fine, so it's an ancient Roman baby coffin. It's definitely NOT a cooking implement. Are you sure they didn't get you with loot from the museum of archaeology there?" "It's a German clay pot. I ran into Mrs Krummbichler there and she says there's no better way of preparing meat, so I intend to give it a try." Wilson thought for a moment. "Are you trying to tell me you spent most of your childhood in Asia and never got acquainted with clay pot cooking?" House snorted contemptuously: "With my Dad in charge of the household? We hardly ever left the base, let alone tried any of that dangerous un-American cooking!" "And later?" "Yeah, of course. Never thought of it as a western thing, though. Well, surprise me I guess..." Wilson closed the kitchen door and House retreated to the balcony with his music player and a paperback of XKCD comics. That guy had a LOT of insight into the human condition, definitely.

House had got through a further two volumes of light reading when the kitchen door finally opened and a delicious smell emanated through the entire apartment, along with an enthusiastic shout. "Dinner!" "Coming..." He went to the kitchen. "What do you think?" "At least it doesn't smell of 3000 year old dead baby I guess..." Wilson rolled his eyes. "Just sit down and try!" He put a basket with freshly baked flatbreads on the table, where a decanter of red wine was already waiting, and then lifted the lid off the pot. Wow... That did look amazing. There was a rack of lamb in there, surrounded by grapes and olives, and gravy that smelt of garlic, rosemary and more wine. Not that House would ever let Wilson know how good all that looked. He poured the wine for both of them, then filled the plates, finally tried a bite. Oh God... This was officially better than sex. Wilson grinned triumphantly. "Convinced yet?" House shrugged. "I've had worse..." Wilson smilingly shook his head and for a while there was silence as they were munching their way through an amazing meal, soaking up the gravy with the flatbreads that were studded with sesame and sun flower seeds. Wilson looked satisfied. "That's the good thing with you, you're a terrible actor with anyone who knows you." "Huh?" "This is one of the best meals you've ever eaten, admit it!" "Whatever you think..." Wilson kissed him. "The look in your eyes is enough." House capitulated and kissed back. "It was good. Who came up with that?" "Moses? Well, Mrs Moses I guess." "Was there a Mrs Moses?" "No idea, I gave up on cheder after the whole thing with Job." "Hm?" "Well any actual father doing that kind of shit to his actual child should be reported to child services, right?" "Of course!" "Exactly! Only Rabbi Seligsohn said that was the wrong way to look at it and that's when I stopped going." "And you still made your bar mitzvah, you hypocrite?" "So you actually believed in God when you made your confirmation? HA! Quits!" For a moment, House just felt happy.

After dinner, Wilson went off for a round of tennis with Ella Kaminski, or rather to test if he was still able to do it, and House decided he might as well have a nice time of it now he had the place to himself for a couple of hours. He found himself some Chet Baker and a packet of cigarettes, and stretched out on the sofa listening with his eyes closed. Oh to be that chilled just once again... For once, however, he didn't feel cravings or that indistinct longing that was with him most days. It felt ok to be here, sober, with a cat purring on his chest und sneaky cigarettes, like a naughty 17-year-old when Mom and Dad were out. Though... No, not even the bourbon was enough of a temptation to get up. He finally had to admit to himself that he was just feeling good, drifting along with Chet's mellow meanderings, two junkies sharing the secrets of their dirty old souls. Wilson, too, seemed borderline elated when he got back, Ella in tow. "It works", he happily declared, waking House up from dreams about smoky jazz clubs on riverboats. "Huh?" "Oh, did I wake you? Sorry!" "It's ok... So what works?" "Playing tennis! Ok, so I'm not as fast as I used to be and I had to take a couple of breaks, but I didn't make a total ass of myself." House smiled. "That's great!" "Huh? No snide comments about preppy sports?" "Naw, feeling too mellow." Immediately Wilson's eyes drifted into the expected direction. House rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, Chet Baker got stoned for me... Oh, hi Ella!" "Hi Gregory!" She sat down in one of the armchairs. Only when Wilson went to get drinks House realised that he hadn't once remarked upon the cigarette butts in the empty fruit bowl.

They managed to finish two bottles of wine - of which House only had a glass and a half, trying to be a good boy - between them over the next few hours just talking, and by the time Ella decided it was time to go home neither of the two younger people could have still sustained a round of tennis. Wilson let her out and looked at his watch. "Wow, nearly two. That was a good session." He grabbed the dirty stuff from the table and pressed a chaste little kiss on House's lips in passing. "I'll just wash this up. If you want a nightcap cigarette have it on the balcony, ok? The smell is kinda overpowering." House gawked and Wilson started laughing. "You really thought I didn't know, did you? Well I do, and I don't mind, ok? If you get lung cancer now it'll hardly make a difference anyway..." House nodded, that was a perfectly valid way to look at it. He took himself and his cigs out to the balcony and made a mental note to buy an ashtray at the next opportunity.

When they finally went to bed, they left the balcony door open; it was a humid night and the tiniest little breeze was more than welcome. Between the long day they'd had and the wine in his system Wilson went to sleep almost immediately on hitting the pillow. House watched him for a while until he finally drifted off himself. It got more and more humid and there were legions of crickets chirping. Suddenly House realised he wasn't in his nice soft bed with the picture of a space rocket above the headboard, but in the garden shed, on the rough wooden floor. He felt scared and confused. What had happened? He heard rustling from somewhere and curled up as tight as he could. Johnny LaMont from third grade had said there were rats everywhere here and if you didn't watch yourself they'd eat your toes. He didn't want that to happen, he liked being in one piece. He felt something gnawing at his right thigh. He didn't dare look what it was, just shuffled in his curled up position to get rid of it, but it wouldn't stop. He got more scared now, kicked at it, but still the gnawing wouldn't stop. He wanted to cry, but Dad had said crying wasn't good, real boys didn't do that. He bit back the tears, he didn't want to annoy him even more. That's why he was here, now he remembered. He had been sitting in the big mango tree in the backyard playing spaceship when Dad came home. "Earth to Greg", he had shouted, and he had found that funny and laughed. Immediately Dad had got angry. "I'll teach you to laugh at me!" "But..." "No buts! You come down from that tree NOW!" He had climbed down. "Why didn't you finish your milk and cookies after school?" "I did!" "No you didn't, there was one left on the plate when I came in. Do you even realise how good you have it?" "But I wasn't hungry!" "I told you no buts!" He had taken him by the ear, it hurt. "You get something to eat here, you darn well eat it! There are kids down there in Manila who'd be delighted to get three cookies a week!" "Maybe I could give my cookie to them?" "Don't you try and be clever with me, young man!" House hadn't understood, it had been an honest question. Why had Dad been so mean? Only last week he had come home, and he had picked him up and twirled him round when he'd got off the plane, and called him his great little man, so why this now? His ear had hurt, he had felt tears spring into his eyes. "And don't be a gosh darned cry baby! Any son of mine is gonna be a man!" He had confiscated the piano key and shoved him into the shed. "Without dinner, so you learn how good you have it in life! And this piano key stays in my pocket for the rest of the week." So now he was lying there in the shed, scared and trying to get to sleep. He felt the tears well up again. No! He wasn't going to cry! If he didn't cry and Dad saw he was a real man he'd love him again. Mom hadn't looked too happy watching their exchange from the backdoor, but hadn't intervened. Dad always told her disciplining a kid wasn't a woman's job and she was too soft on him anyway. But shouldn't moms be soft, so you could cuddle up to them when you were sad? But then that was probably only for girls. From now on he wouldn't cuddle up to anyone, he was gonna be tough like Dad wanted. He had told him he would have to be the man in the house and look after Mom when he went back to that place called 'nam again in two weeks, so he was going to try his best. He'd always look after her, Mom was nice. And when he was a big famous astronaut, he'd write her postcards from Mars. The gnawing at his thigh kept going on. He couldn't stand it anymore, he kicked. He heard something scuttling away, but the pain still didn't stop. He bit his knuckles to distract himself, again feeling tears welling up in his eyes. Suddenly it was day, sunlight was shining through the cracks in the wooden walls of the shed. The door opened. "Hi Gregory..." It was Mom. He smiled, he was happy to see her. "Here, I made you waffles. Don't let Daddy know. He left early, they needed him at the base." "Thanks, Mom!" He ate gratefully, then followed her into the House to get washed and dressed. "You better get going if you don't want to be late for school. You'll need good grades if you want to become an astronaut." "Ok..." She hugged him. "It'll be ok, you just behave, and I'll talk to Daddy about the piano key. You're a good boy, only he forgets that sometimes." "Ok..." He huddled himself into the folds of her pretty, flowery skirt, then looked into her sadly smiling face. Her voice changed, got deeper. "House, it's ok, hey, please... Wake up..." No, that wasn't Mom at all, that was a man. What was happening? For a moment he was scared, but the eyes he was looking into now seemed warm and kind, so he felt calmer again. "House, please..." He liked these eyes, they were the exact colour of maple syrup. "Wake up, it's only a dream..." He willed himself awake. Wilson was holding him and whispering into his ear. He was shaking, the sheets were soaking wet. He put his arms around Wilson. "Thanks..." "Bad dream?" "Yeah... Dr Wyatt asked me about the first time I'd held back tears. I didn't remember much of it, except that it was in the Philippines, so I must still have been in single digits. Well, now I remember every moment of it. I was seven. I don't think there really was a rat gnawing on my thigh, though." Wilson gently stroked his head. "Is it bad?" "No, it's pretty ok right now. Ew..." He peeled the wet sheets off him. "We better change these. Will you, while I have a shower?" "Shower?" Wilson smiled wryly. "FUCK! Hm... I'll just go down to the pool I guess, as long as it's water."

At that moment, a thunderbolt drowned the sound of the crickets. "SHIT!" Wilson reached for his nightstand, presumably to get out the Valium. He wasn't good with thunderstorms. "NO!" House took his arm and forced it over towards him. "What the hell, House?" "I won't let you get dependent on the stuff, not for thunderstorms!" "You know I need it!" The thunderbolts came nearer and Wilson winced, trying to reach for the nightstand again. House held on tight to both his arms. "Wilson, please! Don't allow this to happen to you!" He looked at him besiegingly. "Fine! How else do you expect me to get through this then?" Wilson was getting seriously peeved." Get through this? For fuck's sake, Wilson, this is not Danny having the funnies, this is the weather! Do you even realise what that sounds like?" "Fine, so it's the weather, but I happen to have serious issues with it, so let me get my goddamn Valium!" "No!" He was still holding on to Wilson's hands, thank goodness for the upper body strength that eventually came with bad legs. He looked Wilson in the eyes. "Jimmy, just listen to me! Just for a moment!" Another thunderbolt, Wilson yelped but stayed put. "Ok, can I let go of you now?" "I guess..." The thunderstorm drew closer, Wilson now had tears in his eyes. "I need this stuff, please Greg!" "No you don't! Hell, I've been there, I know what you're going through... Kind of. Just look at me!" It seemed to cost Wilson a lot of effort, but he steadied himself and looked at House. House took him gently by the hands. "Ok, let's just talk. Tell me about the worst moments in your life!" "What the hell, House, you know all the worst moments in my life! Are you half through a book on anxiety counselling or something? If so, please finish it first!" He winced again under the onslaught of the thunder. House slightly tightened his grip on him. "Tell me anyway!" "Yeah, fine, whatever!" He was hyperventilating now and clammy with sweat. "Seeing Uncle Ed for the last time before he died. There was hardly anything left of him. Then when Mom called me and said Danny wasn't picking up the phone, that sucked." He swallowed, then went on. "Realising he was gone, that he might be dead, never come back, whatever..." Another thunderbolt, another wince. "And Amber dying, that was bad. Having no one to blame really. The fear of losing you, too..." House put his arms around him. "That's good, just keep on talking..." Wilson was still wincing with every bit of thunder and lightning, but had stopped hyperventilating. "In hospital last winter, not knowing if I'd ever be well enough again for us to cope..." House knew that was pretty much it. He pulled Wilson closer, never losing eye-contact. "And what do all these things have in common?" "They sucked?" "Duh! Except for that!" Wilson shrugged. "I survived I guess..." "BRAVO! EXACTLY! You just got the 64000 Dollar question! You survived! And you went on living, you ended up pretty ok all in all, right?" "Hm yeah..." The thunderstorm was now receding, further south towards the Penn stateline. "So what exactly should a fucking thunderstorm do to you? You're tough, if I was a bolt of lightning I'd think twice before hitting you." Wilson managed a smile. "I wish at was that simple..." "It IS that simple. The thunderstorm is gone, you didn't take the Valium, you're not dead, you're not even hyperventilating anymore. Fuck it, you're smiling!" Wilson seemed surprised by that but had to concede. He lay down his head on House's shoulder for a moment. "Thanks, Greg!" "You're welcome... It'll be easier the next time, just tell yourself all these things. You're more scared of the fear than of the actual thunderstorm." "Ok..." Wilson gave a slight chuckle. "And yet if I told anyone about this and how sweet you can be, they wouldn't believe me." "I'd also immediately cease to be sweet..." "I know. It's a phenomenon known to physicists as Schrödinger's Jerk." They laughed and hugged. "Let's both have a swim, and we can change the sheets afterwards", House suggested. "Ok..." They went down to the pool and swam under the full moon. Both of them had almost forgotten how good that felt.


	13. A quiet Weekend

Two sleeps till Maine, and nine until they'd come back to a snazzy new bathroom with the coolest Jacuzzi ever: House spent the weekend in a fairly conciliatory mood, organising the neighbours about letting the workmen in every morning and watering the herb boxes on the balcony, and being generally co-operative with Wilson's efforts about washing and organising their vacation clothes. And then of course on Sunday night it was packing time. House was a big believer in travelling light, so apart from the obvious necessities he just stuffed a couple of shorts and T-shirts into his bag, a pair of jeans in case they'd get unlucky with the weather, plus a decent shirt and a light summer suit in case they'd want to go somewhere nice up there. Wilson au contraire... House sat down on the edge of their bed to watch. First he had got his little wheelie suitcase from the basement, then spread out any number of almost identical cargo shorts, polo shirts, neatly folded jeans and smart casuals for better occasions on any space of the bed that wasn't occupied. "Are you sure you don't want to iron creases into your Levi's after all?" "Well hawhaw, aren't you hilarious? It just so happens that some of us like to make an effort with our appearance." "Yeah... So much effort, so little result!" House watched him pick out his idea of exactly the right tie from the smart casual pile in horror. "Pleeeeeeeze, if you're going to bring a tie to a beach vacation, at least bring one that doesn't make innocent by-standers want to scoop out their eyes with a rusty melon baller!" Wilson scrutinised the violet and chocolate brown affront to aesthetic sensibilities he had just been about roll up and stick into a deck shoe. "So what do you think is wrong with it, Carson?" "Carson? Nope, this is definitely Straight Eye for the Queer Guy..." "Excuse me? Were we talking about tie patterns or sexual identity here?" "With you one goes with the other. I just wish you actually had some dress sense along with the flamboyance, gay boy!" "I'm not even gonna answer that..." "Funny, you just did." Wilson face palmed. "Aaaawwwww... Now here's an idea! Did you ever consider actually NOT taking a tie to the seaside?" "And have nothing to annoy you with? No way!" Oh... That made the tie problem a totally different matter of course. House felt a grin spread across his face. Still not boring... "Damn!" Wilson interrupted his short moment of quiet bliss. "Hm?" "Now you know I'll need to think of something else to wind you up." He determinedly put the tie back into the closet with an expression of grief: "It is the end of an era." House laughed. "I'm sure you'll find something. You'd better..." "Don't worry, I'm cautiously optimistic." He finally settled for charcoal chinos and a light knitted V-neck as far as smart casuals were concerned. House very much hoped he wouldn't wear a polo shirt under it. God knew he was, once again, packing enough of them to kit out a medium-sized army. Browns ones, green ones, khaki ones, navy ones, charcoal ones, then the cargo shorts in the same vein of discreet leisure shades, a sun hat, his beach shorts and sandals, blue deck shoes, brown deck shoes, two pairs of jeans, a hoodie - someone liked to be prepared for all eventualities. That was another reason why they hardly ever flew these days; Wilson managed to accumulate excess baggage packing for a weekend in Trenton. After just over two and a half hours he finally closed the zip with a look of achievement on his face. House applauded sarcastically: "Well done, Jimmy, it took you under three hours!" "And I'm sure it was more fun for you to watch than the Sunday night movie would have been." "Good point..." Wilson was now undressing for bed, it had got that late. House continued to watch him while undressing himself. There was nothing to bitch or slag him off about now, so he just sat there with his jeans around his ankles and feasted his eyes.


	14. The coolest Birthday Present ever

They were up early the next morning, and if only because the bathroom guys had shown up at an extremely rude half past eight, before Wilson had even started on making breakfast. By just after nine they had cuddled Henry good-bye and were ready to pack the car and go when Wilson suddenly started up. "Shit, forgot to get my refill. I won't be long!" He dashed out of the door. Huh? That wasn't like him. And as they both still got their meds at the hospital pharmacy it was even less like him not to start up the car. WTF? House suddenly found himself looking extremely forward to finding out whichever secret Wilson was so pathetically trying to keep from him. He smirked and gave Henry some more quality time. "So what do you think he's trying to do?" Henry just purred, which House took to be agreement with his opinion that this was all highly amusing. Eventually Wilson came back up, just after something with a downright obscene exhaust note had obviously been parked close by. "Right, all ready and set to go!" He reported with feigned nonchalance. They had quite some carrying to do to get all the stuff downstairs, all because of that stupid wheelchair Wilson had insisted they take along. "I just don't want your vacation fucked up if you do get bad, ok?"

When they got outside, House made straight for the Volvo, but Wilson walked on. What? House looked up, and there it was - low slung, top down and quite incredibly orange. He blinked. It was still there, a convertible 2010 Dodge Viper. He blinked again. Wilson smiled encouragingly. "Come on, chuck your stuff in!" "Wow..." Wilson looked absurdly excited now. House simply couldn't believe it. "You rented THIS to get us to Maine in style? Holy camshaft, Batman!" Wilson's grin had now almost reached his ears. "Look at the plates!" House looked, they were brandnew handicap plates. On a rental car? Wow! "Penny still not dropping? Fine, check out the steering wheel!" House looked. There was an envelope tied to it with his name on. He tore it open. First thing that fell into his hands was a card. "Happy early birthday, sorry I couldn't let this wait till tomorrow. I've put a Valium stash into the glove compartment for myself. Love you, Jimmy" Then the vehicle documents, all made out to Dr Gregory House, MD, and finally the gimp cert and plaque. House gawked, then panicked for about 2 1/2 seconds wondering if he'd gone mad again. Wilson still grinned. "Don't worry, it's really happening." "Maybe I'm hallucinating you saying that, too?" "Are you sober?" "Yes..." "Well then you're not hallucinating..." House fell back to gawking, then felt a kiss on his face. "It's yours. Enjoy!" House finally allowed himself to accept this as real and got into the driver's seat. He knew it was really too low for him and he'd pay for it in pain afterwards, but didn't care shit: he hadn't felt as cool since the first ride on his sorely missed Honda. He pulled Wilson down and hugged him long and hard. "Thank you!" "You're welcome!" Only there was one problem: the Volvo had baggage space, and this thing didn't. Wilson managed to squeeze the bags into the miniscule trunk and the walker onto the emergency seat in the back, but the wheelchair... House thought for a moment. If he was gonna drive this baby all the way up to Maine he probably would need it afterwards. "Get the one from the basement, that folds up smaller." Wilson gave him his raised eyebrows that one's technically mine even though I probably won't ever need it again look, but saw sense and exchanged the two. In the mean time House had started to wonder about something. "Wilson?" "Yeah?" "How the hell did you manage to get all this into my name?" "Remember all the stuff Bronagh made you sign about the bathroom?" House giggled. "You mean you slipped in a power of attorney letter?" "Yup! Are we ready to go?" "I guess so..." House started the engine, tried to slam down the accelerator and - almost screamed out in pain. "Fuck..." He felt as sad now as he had felt happy less than thirty seconds ago. "I can't get this down, it's impossible. You'll..." It broke his heart to think Wilson would have to take this amazing present back to the shop. Wilson, irritatingly at this stage, still smiled. "The pedal is power adjustable. Look, I think that's where you set it." House tried the button Wilson had indicated, then set down his foot on the accelerator again. It was easier now, the pain was bearable. Finally he had found the perfect setting for himself, still sporty but almost down to his regular pain level. He felt incredibly grateful now. "You really thought of everything, huh?" "Well, I tried..." Another hug, this was beyond amazing. "How the fuck did you afford this anyway?" "I think it was a revenge sale. Either that or it's a piece of shit. And it doesn't handle like one." "Yeah well, nothing handles like a piece of shit when you're driving it. Anyway, we'll see soon enough..." House had spent that entire conversation adjusting the play list on his music player for relativistic driving speeds. Finally he was ready. They buckled up, and to the sound of Pete Townhend's ARP 2500, sped off with an almighty roar. Once they'd got to the Interstate it took House about two minutes to pronounce his judgement on the car. "I feel sorry for that bitch's ex..." "Hm?" "This car does NOT handle like a piece of shit." He accelerated the revenge sale by another twenty mph.

Even though they'd taken a break in Connecticut, they were tired when they got to Wells Beach and House found it nearly impossible to get up from the low car seat and up the four steps of the traditional little New England house they had rented for the week. Wilson gave him a tender look. "You have a lie down somewhere, stretch your legs out. I'll unpack." "Ok..." There was a sun lounger on the back porch, in a nice spot where the sun would warm his poor old limbs. House lay down and closed his eyes, savouring the warmth on the cramping, throbbing, burning thigh. He didn't really mind the pain, the drive up had been worth it.

House was woken up by smells from what he presumed was the kitchen, he hadn't really taken the time to explore the house before lying down. "When's dinner?" He shouted vaguely into the direction of the backdoor. Wilson came out. "Whenever you want it. This is really for the..." "...morning?" House was suddenly wide awake. "Yes, so stay away from the kitchenette! I thought we could just get some takeaway tonight, if that's ok with you." "Fine, yeah..." House flexed his various creaky bits to check if they'd recovered enough to carry him without a pain attack: if Wilson really thought he could keep him away from what were obviously the preparations for an epic birthday breakfast he was sadly mistaken. "I'll find us something Japanese, ok?" Wilson suggested. "Ok!" Wilson went back inside, and eventually House could hear him rummaging around the front of the house, obviously on the prowl for takeaway menus. He slipped inside to the best of his abilities, following the food smells. Ah, there was the kitchenette. Meh, that looked boring, some sort of batter, some yeast... Hm... That was supposed to become an amazing breakfast? House shook his head in worry and started juggling some cutlery to help himself cogitate what these things might become. Oh, and to annoy Wilson once he'd be back in the room, there was that aspect of it. A steady rhythm helped with the juggling. And with the other aspect of it of course. "Yorn desh born, dee born desh, yeh dosh deer börk börk börk..." Happy juggling with the Swedish Chef, that tune actually had the ideal rhythm... 1-2-3-, 1-2-3... "HOUSE!" "WILSON!" "What did I tell you?" "Vhet deed I tell yuoo?" House was now on a Swedish Chef roll and had no intention of abandoning it before Wilson started to bang his head against something unyielding. "So... Are you sure you want that birthday breakfast?" "Ere-a yuoo soore-a yuoo vunt thet burthdey breekffest?" Wilson rolled his eyes. "I'm sure there's something cool on TV..." "Boot vhy vuoold I vunt tu vetch Tee Fee iff I cun stund here-a unnuyeeng yuoo insteed?" "Well if you really want to _stand_ there and annoy me I'll be rid of you soon enough." House pulled a moué and sat down on one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter. Wilson gave up and went back to his cooking. "Well, I guess for the moment it doesn't look like anything recognisable anyway..." House found himself in total agreement with that and took to keeping himself amused by giving a running Swedish Chef style commentary on everything Wilson was doing. "Und noo ve-a poot zee yeest intu a coop ooff lookooerm veter. Hurty flurty schnipp schnipp!" Eventually Wilson capitulated and started laughing. Happily that co-incided with the arrival of the miso soup and seafood tempura, so they sat down on the sofa together and checked out what the local TV-provider had to offer - which turned out to be the Muppets, lucky co-incidences rocked!


	15. The coolest Birthday ever

House was usually the first to wake up, almost precisely six hours after going to sleep because that's when his meds started to wear off and the pain reasserted itself with a jolly old tearing sensation. This morning, however… He opened his eyes groggily. "Wilson?" He muttered, realising the space next to him in bed was empty. He woke with a start. WTF? "Wilson?" "Coming!" "Why the hell are you up?" "Because I was going to wake you up with breakfast, duh! Why the hell are you awake?" "Because I never get more than six hours of sleep? You should have got up earlier then!" Wilson rolled his eyes. "Fine, so where do you want your extra special birthday boy breakfast now you're up anyway?" Oh… Of course… House smiled in expectation of something very delicious indeed. "Did you check if the hot tub they had on the Web site is actually there and working?" "It's in the nineties out there, why on earth would you want to use the hot tub?" "You're so right. Only my leg disagrees…" Wilson went to check on the hot tub without answering. "It's there and it's working", he reported back a couple of minutes later. "Great… Let's both get in and have birthday breakfast there. And some birthday kinky half stag sex while we're at it." The latter had just slipped out: Wilson was looking ridiculously hot this morning, his hair still wet from the shower, and half dressed in his boxers and a polo shirt that was slightly too small for him. He grinned mischievously: "But you already got your present yesterday." "Oh, still recovering from the last time are we? Well I'm sure there's a Walgreen's somewhere in town if you need Viagra…" 'Excuse me? You're talking to a former porn actor!" They didn't actually make it to the hot tub …

They were still quite busy when an acrid smell hit their noses almost simultaneously. "Oh Shit!" Wilson extracted himself, jumped out of bed and made for the kitchenette at quite impressive a speed, his self-imposed exercise programme had definitely worked. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck! I totally forgot I had already put some on!" "Some what?" "Blintzes!" Oh my God! Ok, that was a major disaster. "How many did you lose?" "Only four, there'll still be plenty to go round." "PHEW! Well get cooking, wifey, I'm hungry!" Eventually he came back in. "Is the hot tub still on? Cos breakfast is ready." "Definitely…" Blintzes, mmmmmm, and God knew what other delicious little morsels with them. House went out to the garden and found himself faced with his first challenge of the day. Ok, so the hot tub was there and it was working, but… What exactly had it said about accessibility on the Web site? The walls of this thing were about twice as high as the ones of their bathtub at home, and that wasn't exactly a picnic to get into and out of. ARGH! He sat down on the edge and tried to swing his right leg over first, at least the hip joint on that one was fine. He lifted it and lifted it and lifted it… OW! And he wasn't even near getting it over yet. This definitely came under cruel and usual, he decided to give the rep of the rental company an extremely thorough talking to as soon as he was actually fed and dressed. He tried to get in left leg first from a standing position leaning on the walker like no tomorrow. No dice, that one wouldn't lift as far either. FUCK! "Wilson! Little help?" Wilson came out and immediately recognised the problem. "You'll need some sort of foot stool or step or something," "Well guess what!" "Will you be ok for a couple of minutes? I'll go down to the management office and tell them where they can stick their rent demands if they don't at least find you a way of getting into this thing." "Ok…" House sat down on the sun lounger to wait. Great birthday this was getting to be – NOT! It took Wilson about ten minutes to come back, in the company of a rep who was carrying a little plastic step, not unlike the ones toddlers had to reach the basin. "I am SO sorry, Dr House, that should never have happened." "No it shouldn't have." "I know. See, these things get stolen an awful lot, so we never seem to have one for every property we're managing here. Turns out there was a typo on the maintenance form and this one was put into number 17 instead of yours here." "You realise this is all pretty pathetic, right? Why don't you just put in proper accessible tubs everywhere? God knows you're charging enough to pay for it!" "Hm yes, in an ideal world I'd agree with you, but…" "Ideal world my ass! Do you have any idea about the amount of pain I'm in now because your bosses are too fucking stingy to invest another 150 bucks per property? That's all it would cost!" The rep actually looked concerned now. "Well, I can only repeat my apology in the name of the company and assure you that it comes from the heart. Anything I can do for you to make your sojourn as comfortable as possible, just let me know." Prescription narcotics would have been a nice idea… House beat that thought down before it could develop into a craving. "Ok, is there anything more in this place an old cripple should know about except for the steps outside and this absurdly maldesigned hot tub?" "Um… Not that I'm aware of. Would you like me to pass on your suggestion about the hot tubs to the management?" "Yes…" "Ok… Look, here's an idea. Don't bother going down to the office if you find there's anything else not to your liking. My name is Jeremy, and here's my card with my mobile number. If there's anything you need, just give me a call!" He seemed genuine, so House spared him the Brit jokes that had been rearing to go in the back of his mind. "Ok, and now let me try this thing before you run away. It was obviously made for a dwarf with unusually small feet." He tried it. It just about worked. "Thanks", Wilson said and brought the rep to the door, while House was finally getting comfortable and letting the hot water work on the tense, cramping flesh in his thigh.

Eventually Wilson came with the breakfast tray. "The blintzes are cold now, sorry. But I guess the rest is still nice." House looked it over. Blintzes, sour cream, caviar, lox… Oh God that looked amazing. He smiled. "Come in, I'm sure it's still good." Wilson came in and they finally went back to the actual business of the day. "Mazel tov, House, here's to another year!" They clinked their coffee cups. "If that… I won't start looking as far ahead before that check-up in three months." Wilson looked annoyed. "Do you have to put a damp cloth on everything?" "Just being realistic. Anyway, it's all good, we've already had a lot longer than I ever thought we would." "True… There were times when I thought you wouldn't make it to 63." "There were times when I thought I wouldn't make it to 53." House stretched out languorously, at least this tub was nice and roomy and the hot water was finally beginning to do its job. He shovelled another blintz into his mouth, loaded with seafood and sour cream. "I'll just go on taking it a day at a time, seems like it works." "Ok…" "Where did you get all the seafood from? I can't remember you shopping…" "I called the management company on the way and asked them to put some into the fridge." Wow, that had been innocent thinking. "And you honestly expected it to stay there?" Wilson grinned. "Every fridge has a secret compartment. Well, secret from you anyway." "Right, I'll remember to check the veg drawer the next time." "Damn!" But Wilson snuggled himself into the crook of House's neck anyway. This was good…

House's cell rang while he was still pulling on his socks. He groaned - why the hell, after all these years, hadn't people still copped on to the idea that he didn't like birthday calls? But then at least that person had had the decency to wait till he could reasonably expected to be awake and breakfasted. He took the call with a sigh. "Yeah..." "Happy birthyday to youuu... Happy birthday to youuuu..." Anyone but Gina would have immediately found themselves bereft of his friendship for that. "Hi nerve shredder, are you getting me something nice then?" "But you're in Maine, so I can't get you anything!" Gina sounded sulky. "Well you could give to me when we get back, or the next time you come round..." "Okaaaayyyy... So what do you want?" "A cool bumper sticker would be nice." "But you've already stuck Jews do it for Eight Nights on your new car and Grampa was annoyed with you." "Well by now he quite likes it. Anyway, not the Volvo, silly! Your wonderful, sweet, amazing Grampa got me a vintage Dodge Viper for my birthday and that definitely needs a cool bumper sticker." "A what?" "It's a really hot sports car. And it's orange. You'll love it." "Woooooowwwww... Can I see it?" "Later, ok? It's parked outside." "Ok... Oh... Uncle Greg!" She sounded quite excited now. "Yeah..." "I got four Excellents in my report card!" "Wow, well done! In what?" He remembered his own first report card, and how excited he had been about the four A's... Till his Dad had got to see it, and had never got beyond acknowledging the one D. "In numeracy, and spelling, and word... Com... Compre..." "Comprehension?" "Yes... What does that mean?" House found it impossible not to snort at the irony of that. "What?" "It means you're good at understanding what a word means." Gina giggled. "Oh..." "So what's the fourth Excellent in?" "Music!" "Yay!" "Yes, and Ms Hillstrom said I'm really good and should audition for the choir!" Wow, that was great. House was sharing Gina's excitement now, he felt proud that he had managed to pass on that passion to her. Suddenly she sounded slightly more downcast: "I got one Needs Improvement, though." "Aw, what in?" "Gym class... I hate it!" She sounded honestly pissed off. "But you love running around and swimming and playing ball and stuff, so what's that all about?" "Yeah, but... In gym class we all have to run a certain way, and then we have to throw a ball against the wall ten times, and then we have to play dodge ball and Billy Codswaller always tries to hit me and then we have to climb the ropes... It's stupid!" House could totally see her point. He had only begun to shine in gym class long after elementary school himself, when his natural athletic talent had almost automatically granted him places and rapid promotion on the competition teams. "It'll get more fun when you're in high school, promise." "And in the mean time?" "Hit Billy Codswaller really hard a couple of times, that'll teach him." "But he's huge!" "Is there any other girl you know he's mean to?" "Yes... Meera... And Rosie. She's new. But she's really nice. Ms Hillstrom said she wants me and Meera to be her friends." "Well then it's three of you against one of him, isn't it? So you can all hit him really hard the next time you play dodge ball." "Ok..." She sounded a bit more enthusiastic again now. "Oh and last week the photographer came and we all had to have our pictures taken, and there was a big group picture, and then there was an open day for all the kids who start school next term and we sold cake and..." "Wow, sounds like you had an exciting last week in school. May I finish putting on my socks now?" "Okaaaaaay... Did Grampa bake you a cake with candles?" "No, but he made me blintzes and lox and caviar for breakfast." "EEEEEEEEW, that's disgusting!" "What is?" "Caviar! Fish eggs! EW!" "Great, more for me. And now I have to get my crippled ass to the boardwalk and give your Grampa panic attacks on the rides. I'll call you and show you the new car when we get out of the house, promise." "Right, see you!" "See you!" He finished the call and found that in the meantime he had missed three more, Cuddy, Foreman and... A German number? Huh? +49258... What? Before he could start thinking about it the phone rang again. "''..." "Hi Alvie, are you off your meds again?" The conversation went on in this style for about twenty minutes, during which it transpired that yes, indeed Alvie had taken himself off his meds again, and indeed he was inside again, and as far as House was personally concerned, for very good reason. He didn't even try to tell him what had happened in his life recently, there was no point. Instead he just promised to come and see him after the vacation, and finished the call rolling his eyes at Wilson. He then finished getting dressed. "Oh, we gotta get Gina something nice, she got four Excellents in her report card." "Cool! Why don't we take her shopping the next time she stays over, she can pick out something then." "Ok... Any idea who could try to call me from Germany?" Wilson shrugged. "Not really..." But there was a look in his eyes that said he knew more than he was letting on. "Wilson..." "Honestly! And I'm sure if it was important they'll try again anyway." House dropped the subject for the time being but couldn't really stop thinking about it. They went out and House messaged a picture of the Viper to Gina, feeling not quite up to another phone conversation yet. He had psyched himself up for age-inappropriate adventure and being congratulated on being the age he actually was sort of interfered with the fun of that.

Wilson gave him a smile as they stepped out on to sidewalk and lightly chuckled at his T-shirt, a beautiful black number featuring Clint Eastwood and the words STILL MORE BADASS THAN YOU in capital letters. "So where to now?" "Boardwalk, I want to go play!" Wilson didn't seem overly enthused about that, but then that was the nice thing about birthdays, he got to do exactly what he wanted. "Right, boardwalk it is..." "God, the enthusiasm. Smile and I'll buy you some cotton candy!" Wilson smiled weakly. "As long as you don't expect me to go on the scary rides with you..." "Aaaaaaaaaw... I promise I'll hold you tight." "You'd be better off promising to wash my shitty pants afterwards." The house wasn't quite at the sea front, so the boardwalk was about half a mile away. "Are you sure you don't wanna drive it?" "Yeah, my leg is fine now. And there are benches everywhere, it'll be ok." All in all, with lots of sitting down in-between, it took them about 20 minutes to actually get there, and then House did buy his beloved the promised cotton candy. "White or pink?" "I don't even want to know what would happen if I said pink." "Hawhaw, you said pink!" Wilson rolled his eyes. "Just ignore him", he said to the guy at the stall. "Make it white." "Comin' right up, sir!" He looked House up and down. "Love your T-shirt!" House grunted something that he hoped didn't sound too much like "Thanks" and paid for the candy. Wilson was looking happier again now, obviously getting into the swing of things. "Greg?" "Hm?" "Love you!" "Love you, too, Jimmy. And we won't go on any of the scary rides, I've seen enough of you scared shitless recently. Mind you, that's MY definition of scary rides, not yours. Bumper cars are officially not scary." Wilson laughed. "Ok." This birthday was getting to be good after all.

They ambled over to the bumper cars and House find himself a particularly silly looking one with a flame design on the fenders. "Are you coming in with me or do you want your own?" Wilson climbed in with him. "I don't trust you in these without supervision." House grinned and went straight for a crowd of college kids, who couldn't believe what they were seeing. "Shit, look at the old guys!" They obviously though it was hilarious, split up and went for a kettling strategy, four cars against one, but little did they know House's immense skill on all sorts of wheeled vehicles. He kept weaving through the tiniest gaps and finally managed to round them up with huge, sweeping curves. Seeing their gawking faces was a delight: "Giving up yet?" The one who had laughed the loudest, a long-haired kid in a band T-shirt nodded first. "Holy shit, where did you learn that?" "In Atlantic City, must have been the night your grandma lost your virginity to me." The kid was dumbstruck, and House threw him his best Clint Eastwood look. "Kid, never underestimate an old cripple!" "Obviously…" House felt immensely satisfied, nothing quite like leaving a bunch of 19-year-old wise-asses in awe. Only… Talking about being an old cripple… They were in the middle of the floor now and the power had stopped. Wilson rolled his eyes, got out and brought the walker. "There you go, Supercripple…" "I prefer Crippleman." He let Wilson help him out of the car and, just to make the kids gawk a little more, they exchanged a more than usually passionate kiss. "Wow…" another kid piped up, a skinny one with dark, chin-length hair and glasses. "I wish my grandparents were that cool…" Wilson smiled. "Thanks!" They left, as arm in arm as they could. "Having a good birthday then?" "One of the best." The day went on in the same vein, only interrupted by a shopping session because House had found a Panama hat and a supernifty cane in a store window that he really really needed, and while he was at it he got something he thought Wilson really really needed, too. Wilson made reservations in a restaurant next door they had both liked the looks of for dinner in the mean time, and finally they went back to the house for a break. House especially needed a sitdown before changing and going back out for dinner, and he could see that Wilson's off kilter gait was more and more developing into a pronounced limp, too.

When the time had come to change, House dumped a bag from the shop on Wilson's side of the bed. "Here, get that on. For once you'll actually look good when we're going out!" "Hm?" Wilson eyed the contents of the bag with suspicion. "A corduroy suit? Come aaaawwwwn!" "Look, I hate to say it, but your dress sense sucks. This birthday may well be my last, so I don't want to cringe at your pants for a change!" "Some people would call that emotional blackmail… And, by the way, I don't believe for a minute that this is your last birthday. By rights you should have been dead at least thirty years ago, so at this stage you're probably gonna outlive me." "Pleeeeeeeeeze?" Wilson gave him one of his long-suffering ones and got into the suit. "Is the sweater up to sir's standards then?" "As long as you don't wear anything underneath, yes." "Riiiiight…" "And now look at yourself!" Wilson shuffled to the mirror with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. "It's ok I guess." "It's hot!" Another of many kisses of the day. During the debate House had changed into a charcoal silk shirt he had also found at the clothes store, the cream linen suit he had packed, and finally cream Converses and his cool new Panama. Supporting himself only on the new cane, a thing of beauty with mother of pearl and cherrywood inlay work, he finally made for the door. Wilson frowned. "How exactly do you expect to make it all the way to the restaurant with this?" "We're driving and there's a handicap space right outside the door, I checked." "The handicap space is gonna be taken like they always are, and you'll still have to make it up the steps." "It. Will. Be. Fine!"

And, much to – admittedly – both their astonishment, it was. The Viper caused quite a stir when they pulled up, the handicap space was free and the steps up to the restaurant had a remarkably sturdy handrail. "See?" Wilson just shrugged. The waiter couldn't do enough for them. "Would you like a seaview or rather the sunset?" "Seaview…" The sunset, as beautiful as it was, cut a bit too close to the bone at House's age. They were shown to a table on the porch, just within earshot of… OUCH! Of course something had to be wrong. "Wilson!" "Yes…" "The piano player sucks!" "Does he?" "Yes, take it from me. We'll need another table." Wilson listened out. "He sounds fine to me." "Yeeeeesssssss…" House called the waiter over. "We need another table pronto, your piano guy is drilling holes into my brain." "He's the best one around, sir." "Then I suggest you cast your net further afield the next time. Can we have another table now?" "I'll have to see what I can do, you'll appreciate that this is a busy…" Sad-eye time again. "You can't do that little favour to an old man who might have less than a year left? On what is probably my last birthday?" From the corner of his eye he could see Wilson trying not to laugh. "I'll be right back, sir." Five minutes later their place had been swapped with that of another couple who were obviously less sensitive to hearing Gershwin played in a Country and Western rhythm. Result!

They were between dessert and coffee when House's cell rang. "Sorry, this number has been disconnected due to non-payment, please call…" A female laugh at the other end that rang a very faint bell. House checked the display, the German number again. "You can't fool me, Greg, happy birthday!" Hybrid accent, German-American. Suddenly the penny dropped. "Lydia?" "Yes, it's me. I thought it might be nice to get back in touch, so I called your house the other day, only you were out." Wilson winked. "Why now? After all those years?" "I retired recently. You know the way you take stock then?" "How the hell get you get my number?" "Google and a couple of lucky guesses. You didn't strike me as the kind of person who'd move away from Princeton." House gave Wilson a semi-dirty look, that's what happened if you allowed your number to be displayed in the directories. On the other hand… Well, he did feel somewhat thrilled. "So… Are you back in Germany? " "Warendorf, it's a small place kneedeep in horseshit. Nice, though; you should come visit some time." "And that from the woman who went all the way to Arizona to get away from me." A borderline sigh from across the Atlantic. "Not to get away from you. We divorced two years later, by the way. I realised I'd only really married him for Annie's sake. If only I'd known it that night…" House found himself in disagreement. "We wouldn't have worked out, I was too messed up then." "Maybe…" There was regret in her voice. "Good to know you're happy now… Well, I guess you are anyway. Jimmy sounded like an amazing guy when I talked to him." House felt a smile spreading across his face. "He is…" "Anyway…" Lydia sounded a bit awkward now. "You have a good birthday; I better get to bed now, stupid late movies. Call me some time, why don't you?" "Yeah, I might…" And he did want to, there were a lot of good memories coming back to him now from the short time they'd had. "Bye then, I'll be in touch." "Bye, Greg…" He could hear the phone being disconnected. Wilson smiled at him. "Good birthday surprise?" "Yeah…" "She called when you were out for your liver appointment, so I suggested she do this." House nodded, realising he was in a much better place than he'd ever been. There'd have been no way for him to talk to her and feel good about it otherwise. He gave Wilson a smile: "You might yet end up making me happy, dorkface, did you know that?"


	16. Cement Dust and an Identity Crisis

Wilson ended up doing most of the driving on the way home, because House had seriously overdone things between the beach and the boardwalk and was hardly able to heave himself into and out of the car, let alone kick down the accelerator on any sort of meaningful power setting. He couldn't wait to test their new Jacuzzi, at least he'd have a good excuse, and so he started giving Wilson the Are we there yet treatment before they had even got past Massachusetts. Finally, somewhere outside New Haven, Wilson had enough: "Either you shut up RIGHT now or we'll stay the night in Queens on Danny's sofa. And I might just tie you down and blast you with Broadway musicals while I'm at it, too." "Oh, kinky!" "Come on, babe, why don't we paint the town…" ARGH! House did shut up, and eventually managed to drift off to sleep. He couldn't really tell how long he had been asleep when he was woken up by a most exotic sound. He snapped awake. Wilson singing was bad enough, but… "You've got to hold on to what you've got, doesn't make a difference if we make it or not…" The radio was turned up to 11 and… He was singing along to Bon fucking Jovi. Oh God… "Hey, I capitulated all the way back in Connecticut!" They were just past Edison now, and he'd been good the whole time, so he felt being blasted with shit music anyway now wasn't quite fair. "Take my hand and we'll make it I swear… Oh, you woke up?" "Well guess what… Are we there yet?" Wilson turned the radio up another notch. "Tommy's got his six string in hock… " House was wondering if this was the time to break one of their few hard and fast rules, the one that the driver got to choose the music, but decided that would be counterproductive. "Pleeeeeeeeeze!" Wilson turned the radio down and shrugged. "You just don't get Bon Jovi, do you?" "No, and neither do I want to." "I know… That's cos you're ooooooold!" House caught a sudden glimpse of Jimmy the wanna-be rebellious teenager and fell in love with him. "Silly man…" "But you love me anyway, right?" "Yeah, and fuck knows why…"

They got home to an arid landscape of cement dust that he bathroom guys had left behind and found themselves deeply regretful of the fact that Mrs Krummbichler didn't offer an emergency service at two in the morning. "How the fuck did the stuff get into the bedroom?" Wilson was not impressed. "Remember you asked Ella to water your herbs? She must have had it on her feet on the way to the balcony." Wilson facepalmed. "Shit!" "Let's sleep on the sofa bed and call Mrs Krummbichler first thing in the morning." Wilson agreed that that made the most sense, and thank goodness they were both tired enough to get a couple of hours of sleep even on that contraption. In the morning they called Mrs Krummbichler even before breakfast and found themselves disappointed. "Hi, this is Jackie Krummbichler. Steve and me are off to the shore for a week, I'll be back to polish your floors next Monday. If you've anything urgent to tell me, please leave a message." "Jackie and Steve?" House's mind boggled. As far as he was concerned it was just wrong for chubby German cleaners and their equally chubby German husbands to call themselves Jackie and Steve. Wilson laughed at the notion: "Well they do have a life outside cleaning our apartment and whatever he does for a living!" "I know, but Jackie and Steve? That's not even German!" "They're really Jacqueline and Stefan I think. Why shouldn't they Americanise themselves?" "Riiiiiight... Anyway, what the hell do we do now?" Wilson cocked an eyebrow. "Clean?" "All this? On our own?" "It's only a lot of dusting and vacuuming really. And at least we'll really appreciate the Jacuzzi afterwards." "I guess…" The new bathroom looked good anyway, in black and white tiles interspersed with lime green, and House had to grudgingly admit that having a seat at his disposal made showering distinctly more comfortable.

A McDonald's breakfast, five vaccum cleaner fills and four hours later their apartment looked civilised again and House was seriously ready to try out the adjustable water jets, as in hurting like crap and lashing out at anyone and anything within a ten mile radius. Wilson left him alone, knowing better than to react, but he was in enough pain for even that to annoy him. "For fuck's sake, at least bitch back at me or something, you sissy!" "What's the point?" There was no anger in Wilson's voice, just the resignation of decades. House went and ran the Jacuzzi. "Wanna come in with me?" He could feel the water jets soften up the cramped leftovers of his right thigh. "Why didn't we do this years ago?" "Because you're stupid?" "Probably…" With the pain slowly receding, a clean apartment and Wilson's wet, warm body touching his, House was beginning to feel able to cope again.

Gina's weekend had come round again before they had even quite got back into their daily routine, and as school had broken up for summer by then, House went to pick her up straight after breakfast. She goggled at the Viper. "Can you make it go fast?" "Not here in town, to many idiots around who won't get out of the way." "Then what's the point in having it?" "It's cool, and I can make it go fast in other places." "Like where?" Good one… So far he hadn't actually had the chance to really race this beast and find out if it could really do the 202mph the manual promised. He thought for a moment. "Why don't we find out if there's a family race day on at some track nearby?" "And then?" "We can make it go fast there." "Cooooooooool!" Gina giggled in happy anticipation, then gave the car a closer look. "Um… Uncle Greg?" "Yeah…" "Where do I sit?" Alright, so the Viper hadn't exactly been designed for family use. "In the front I guess, next to me." "But is that safe?" Oh dear… Wilson definitely had too much influence on the child. "Well it's definitely safer than the back. And anyway, that's taken." "Hmmmmmm…" "C'mon, chuck in your booster seat and we're off!" Really the idea of a booster seat in a Viper made House cringe, but well, occasionally it was just better to be sensible. "Ok…" Gina was uncharacteristically quiet on their way across Princeton, either she was wondering how fast the car would really go if they went to a race track or she honestly had something on her mind. House left her alone; he knew whatever it was would soon enough bubble up anyway.

And it did as soon as they got back. "Grampa!" "Hm?" Wilson, who had been helping Mrs Krummbichler with taking down the curtains she insisted needed a wash, seemed surprised at the somewhat harsh call straight from the door. "Not even a hello and a hug for me before you get down to business?" Gina blushed. "Sorry…" She hugged him and then went to greet the cleaner, who made the usual bit of fuss people make of kids they rarely meet. "Well you've sure grown since I last saw you. So what's pressing on your mind so hard you can't even hug your Grampa before telling him hello?" "Jonah Dreyfus says I'm not properly Jewish." Mrs Krummbichler looked a bit perplexed. "And why would he say that?" "Cos we don't go to shul and stuff. Grampa, why don't we ever go to shul?" "Because we're atheists and shul is for religious people." "But if we're not religious, how can we be Jewish? Jonah says real Jews abide by God's laws and keep kosher and pray and everything, and we don't do any of that." "Ok, here's an idea. You let me finish with the curtains while your uncle gets us both a coffee and a pineapple juice for you, and a couple of rugelach from the fridge, too, because we're certainly Jewish enough for that, and then we sit down and I'll try my best to explain, how about that?" "Ok…"

Now she knew her immediate concerns were soon be taken care of, Gina became more talkative again. "Look, Uncle Greg, that's my class in school!" She shoved a picture under House's nose while he was trying to pour coffee beans into the grinder. "Did you have school pictures when you were young, too?" "We sure did, and if you let me make coffee now I might even show them to you later." He sat down with her while the coffee was brewing and perused the picture. She was sitting sitting in the front row close to Meera, and both had their arms around a little red-haired girl in a homemade dress between them. "That's Rosie", Gina explained. "She's from Poland and Ms Hillstrom says it's really important Meera and me help her settle in." Ms Hillstrom was obviously the teacher on the left, a tall, slim woman in her mid-thirties. He scrutinised the picture further. Funny, the kids were really always the same. Their genders and ethnicities changed, and Gina's school picture certainly looked more diverse than his or even Wilson's had, but there was nothing fundamentally different about it. "Is that Jonah?" He pointed at a small-ish boy who looked very obviously Orthodox Jewish, with peyos and a kippah. "Yeah, how did you know?" "He looks like the sort of person who'd say that. Wilson will explain it all to you." And talking about… There he was. Asian alright, but clad in a green poloshirt, smiley, with a very tidy side-parting and eager to please, the quintessential apple polisher. "Hey Wilson, I found you in Gina's school picture!" Wilson had just finished the curtains and came over. "Where?" "There!" "Erm House, hate to say it, but that kid is Chinese." "It's still you, though. I bet you brought your teacher an apple every morning." Wilson was comically outraged. "No I didn't!" "Yes you did, nehneneneneh…" "Ok, maybe every once in a while…" "HA!" House got the coffee while Gina proceeded to introduce other kids from her class. Suddenly Wilson guffawed. "Ha, there you are! Your name is… What's his name, Gina?" "That's Gareth Henson." "See? He even shares your initials, House!" "He's weird…" "Is he? What's weird about him?" "I dunno. He's really bright and stuff and knows things and he can do the 13 times table and he's good at music, but he always sits on his own during lunch and climbs way up the high climbing frame in the schoolyard and won't come down before recess is over and all." "Maybe he's just shy?" House set down the cookies and drinks and sat down again. "He isn't just shy. You're right, that's me all over again." He checked the boy out, and beneath the sallow skin and brown eyes he saw the same slightly sceptical, slightly mocking and slightly insecure expression he had always had in school pictures, too. He hoped that kid had a nicer Dad… "Just leave him alone, eventually he'll learn you're not gonna hurt him and come down from that climbing frame." He scrutinised the picture further until his eyes came to rest on a burly, crew cut boy with a smug smile. "Who's that? He looks like the kind of kid who'd have made me stay on top of the climbing frame all day." Gina pulled a face. "That's Billy Codswaller." "Oh, he's the bully who always tries to hit you in Dodgeball, yeah?" "Yeah!" "He looks like an asshole, you can tell him that from me." "Gina, PLEASE ignore what your uncle just said." "Ok, fine, don't tell him that from me. Still, don't let him bully you, will you promise that?" "Yes!" Eventually they had learned about all Gina's classmates in rather more detail than House thought strictly necessary and she insisted that now it was time for her to see their old school pictures – her mini-identity crisis seemed, for the moment, forgotten.

It re-erupted, however, over lunch, long after they had all finished laughing about flared trousers, backcombled 1960s teachers and Mrs Krummbichler's recollections of Kindergarten in East Germany. "So am I properly Jewish or not?" "Of course you are. Once your mom is Jewish, you are. You know that, don't you?" "Well yes, but why does Jonah say I'm not then?" "Because he's not just Jewish, he's Judaist." "What's the difference?" "Being Jewish means you belong to the Jewish ethnicity. Being Judaist means you believe in the Old Testamentarian God." "And that's what Jonah does?" "I guess. His parents certainly do if they make him dress like that. Does he bring his own lunch to school, too?" "Yes, why?" "Cos school lunch probably isn't kosher, and so it would be a sin for him to eat it." "Eating stuff can be a sin?" Gina stopped chewing on her sacrilicious bacon and cheese potato salad for a moment. "It can be if you're Orthodox like Jonah. That potato salad certainly wouldn't be on the menu for him." "That's weird…" "Yup! And that's why we don't do any of this stuff." "So if it's not that, what is being Jewish all about?" "Well, what do you think it's all about?" "I don't know anymore, is it about anything at all or are we just like everybody else?" Wilson went silent for some time, obviously he rarely gave the matter much thought. Finally he thought of something. "Ok, you know we've been around for a really long time, right?" "Yes, about 5000 years or something. How long is that?" "About 20 times longer than the United States have existed." "Oh, that's long." "I told you. And most of that time we've been dispersed all over the planet, and at least once other people have tried to kill us all." "Why?" House felt competent on this one: "Because they're stupid." Wilson agreed. "I guess that's what it comes down to. Anyway, after 5000 years and diaspora and the Holocaust we're still around and going strong." "Wow!" "Yeah… So maybe being Jewish is about resiliance and doing your own thing, and knowing that it's right?" Gina smiled. "I like that. That's much better than not eating yummy potato salad." "Isn't it?" Wilson seemed quite proud of his explanation, and House had to admit to himself that he was impressed. "So why does Jonah think going to shul and keeping kosher and all is so important?" "Because that's what his family are teaching him I should think." "Yeah… Grampa, can we go to shul some time? I wanna know what it's like." Wilson seemed a little taken aback by the suggestion. "But I thought you'd just decided it wasn't really important?" "Yes, but I still wanna know what it's like." "Ok, let's go to Kabbalat Shabbat tonight then so you'll find out." "To what?" "The shabbos service. There's a Reform syngagogue up the road, we can have a nice walk there and back." Wilson smiled. "It'll be a good trip down memory lane. My greataunt used to take me every Friday when I was your age." "So was she like Jonah?" "No, she was Reform. But she was certainly religious." "Reform?" "That's a different way of being Judaist. Wow, you still have a lot to learn before your Bat Mitzvah." For some reason their conversation was making House feel good: something felt right about that handing down of knowledge, initiating Gina into the traditions and making her part of the chain. "You'll be a good teacher to her, Reb Yonkel." Wilson seemed astonished at the lack of sarcasm in his voice. "You really mean that?" "I really mean that."


	17. A feelgood kind of Day

The next morning House had a surprise for Gina: „Still wanna make that Viper go fast?"

"Totally!"

„Cool, cos they have a family race day on at New Egypt track today, and we're going. Get your Valium ready, Wilson!" House found it hard to contain his glee about the opportunity to once again scare the shit out of his beloved.

„House, it's a two-seater, I won't fit."

„And you're delighted about that, right?"

„Absolutely!"

„Wimp!"

„And the news is? Look, you guys go off and have a good time; I'll go for a round of tennis with Ella and then fire up the barbecue for when you get home, how does that sound?"

„I guess..." House pulled a sulky face.

At the track they created quite a stir, and immediately found themselves challenged to a race by two college kids in a car that looked so completely generic House found himself unable to determine the make. It did look fast, though, and had an impressive enough exhaust note. „I feel irresponsible taking you up on that challenge" he said as a means of psychological warfare. „Used to be a doctor and saw a lot of kids like you come in through the ER because they'd challenged their betters and come up short." That was, in actual fact, a bare faced lie, he hadn't really seen any of that since his ER rotation in med school, but they didn't need to know that, right?

The kids rose to the bait: „So you think you're our better, huh?"

„He is, too!" Gina grinned, full of confidence in her Uncle Greg and his driving skills.

„Well hello, squirt, so what exactly do you know about driving?"

„I know that Uncle Greg is good at it, and that's totally enough."

„Well, then let's test him, shall we?" Kid One revved the engine. „You ready, grampa?"

„More than you ever will be!" Grampa... How dare they? He'd show them yet!

Yay for fast reactions - House was off before the kids had even quite realised the starting signal had been given. They catching up fast, though, always on the verge of being right next to him and starting to overtake. Fuck! He pretty much had his accelerator foot in the oil sump at this stage, feeling his heart pump and ignoring the increasingly loud clamours from his leg. 180mph... The kids were keeping up well... 190 mph... They were still there... 195... He thought he could see them fall back ever so slightly, by quarters of an inch. His world had shrunk to himself, the speedometer and his competitors. His leg seemed non-existent and he was only vaguely aware of Gina next to him screaming with he did not know what... 200... Now they were defnitely falling back...20... What? 205? 210? At 211 the needle stopped, quivering. House roared with adrenaline and excitement and Gina joined with what was now clearly delight. „YAY! Gotcha, bastards!" He crossed the finishing line and took the foot off the accelerator, letting the car slow down through the gears at its own convenience. The kids passed him now, giving a wave of defeat and shouting their respect.

Gina was wide-eyed and flushed, still whooping. House gave her a smile: „So did you like it?"

„That was amazing! I wanna be a racing driver when I grow up!"

„What happened to the psychiatrist?"

„Boring, this is cooler. And I have enough crazy people around me as it is."

That made House laugh: „You might be right there."

„So how fast did we go?"

„211."

„Whoa... How fast do regular cars go?"

„Depends... The Volvo does about 150."

„And that's why you think it's boring."

„Yup! But that's why it suits your grampa, too."

„So he's boring, too?"

„Yeah... Boring in a cool way, though, don't you think?"

„Yeah, grampa is nice boring."

„And one of us has to be, cos otherwise I'd long be dead."

„Why?"

„He looks out for me, and I think it's his boring ethics that make him do that."

„What are ethics?"

„Do you want the long or the short version of that? Just as a word of warning - the long version has kept the human race awake at night for the past 6000 years. At least."

„Ok, the short one then."

„It's about the difference between right and wrong. And thinking it's right to look out for your loved ones is kinda old-fashioned and boring, but your grampa does it anyway."

„And that's why you're in love with him."

„We don't fall in love with people for rational reasons, but if we did that would be one of them, yes."

„But why do we fall in love with people then?"

„Biochemistry... Hormones... Smells... Reptile brain instincts. That's why so many relationships end up being unhappy. Falling in love with your best friend is rare and special, and precious. Wilson and me, we got really, really lucky." It was only now that House realised how serious this conversation had suddenly got - and how lucky he actually was. He hugged Gina simply because she was the nearest huggable object , surprising her: „Huh?"

„Just needed to hug someone and you were there."

„Ok..."

„So shall we go home and see how Jimmy the Boring is doing with the barbecue?"

„Yes..."

Instead of Jimmy the Boring, who was already down in the yard getting the fire going, they were received by Ella Kaminski who, it appeared, had been waiting for House on his own sofa and yet seemed less than pleased to see him. She gave him a withering look. „Do you have any idea how hard it is to buy decent business clothes when you're 4' 11 1/4?"

„Do you really want me to answer that?" The trials and tribulations of being extremely petite were definitely not part of House's otherwise considerable life experience. „And anyway, what would you want decent business clothes for?" He gave her his most charming smile. „You're looking perfectly fine to me." And she did, too; he liked her shirts as dresses and chunky jewellery approach to being tiny.

„Well, you see, on Tuesday I'm up as the defense witness for a complete idiot who..." House just rolled his eyes as a reply. „Erm... You still want that favour, right? Less eye rolling, more apologising then!"

„Apologising? For what exactly? I think you dress perfectly fine and I sure as hell don't know if you own business clothes or not!"

„For getting us all into this mess in the first place. And, for your information, I hadn't bought any business clothes between my husband's death and this morning. Took me three freaking hours, too. All in the name of conning a jury into thinking you're a normal person and deserve acquittal."

„Well don't I?"

„Of course you do, but you're definitely not a normal person, and making a jury think you are requires business clothes. You owe me, Gregory!"

„I know..." He felt solemn now. „Any favour I can do you, just let me know."

„You're ok. Just... I think if you acknowledged that we're actually all making an effort here, that would definitely be appreciated."

„Ok, yeah... thank you!"

„You're welcome! Oh, James said there's a salmon marinating in the fridge and could you bring that with you when you come down to the yard."

„Thanks, I will. Wanna join us?"

„James already asked. I'll make a plate of finger foods and then I'll be down, ok?"

„Ok!" Ella left, leaving House to turn his attention to the veg drawer for a change and prepare a big salad he thought Ella might like as a sign of appreciation. Hewas looking forward to her fingerfoods, too, when she and her late husband Abe had still run their deli, their selection of tiny kosher snacks had been one of his and Wilson's major lunch favourites.

Their delicious summer barbecue was only disrupted by Jane Carver, their downstairs neighbour, who, obviously on her way to the pool, gagged at the food smells, covere her motuh and... Didn't quite make it back inside. Wilson walked over to her.

„Are you ok?"

„I... Dunno... God, I'm so sorry..."

„Don't worry, I've seen worse and so has Dr House. Is this the first time?"

„No, it started yesterday, completely out of the blue."

„How are you feeling otherwise?"

„Fine really, that's what makes it so weird."

„Well, you're certainly looking fine... House, do you know of any weird tummy bugs going round?"

House slowly came over - the race had taken its toll on his leg - and saw what was wrong at once. „You've an intrauterine growth."

„I have... You mean..." Jane looked shocked.

„Don't worry, these are usually harmless..."

Wilson copped on to what he was saying. "The body expels them after about nine months on average. It'll grow pretty big by then, too."

„Yeah, you'll look huge..."

„Though I think you'll learn to like it..."

Finally Jane got the point. „Oh my God, you mean I'm pregnant?"

„Yup, congratulations!" House had rarely been able to deliver such news during his medical career and it felt better than he thought it might.

„How did you know?"

„Well, you've obviously been trying for the past three months, haven't you?"

„What the..."

„Every four weeks over the past three months you've been looking very slightly puffy around your eyes, so you were obviously off the pill and having your period. And... Your bed is directly below ours and the ceiling is thin."

Jane blushed. „I'm not sure whether to hug you now for telling me I'm pregnant or to slap you for being so god damn disregarding of my privacy."

House grinned. "Hug me? I'm in enough pain as it is and I didn't exactly stalk you, did I?"

"I guess you didn't."

„And for that you'll get away without hugging me. It's not as if I actually like it."

Jane smilingly shook her head and went back inside to tell her husband the news.


	18. The Day of the Trial has come

On Tuesday House had to bite his bottom lip to the point of drawing blood to prevent himself from crying out in pain when he was woken by a spasm in his thigh. He frantically swallowed whatever first dropped into his hand groping around the nightstand and systematically started to knead the ruined flesh. „Huh?" Wilson had obviously been woken by the movement - fuck! House hated doing that to him.

„I'm ok, go back to sleep!"

Wilson consulted the alarm clock on his side of the bed. „It's 08:00h; time to get up anyway. I'll run the Jacuzzi for you."

House sighed. „Ok... And then you go back to bed."

„We have to be in Trenton at eleven."

„Exactly, so you've plenty of time to get more sleep, which you need."

„Not as much as the reassurance that we'll be there on time."

„Listen, I know perfectly well that you didn't sleep last night before I did, and by that time it was at least half past three. If you get up at 09:00h you won't look as zombified as you do now in the first place and need less time to doll yourself up."

„You think that logic is impeccable, don't you?"

„In actual fact I do."

Wilson got up. „I'll run the Jacuzzi now one way or the other, and I'll decide whether to go back to bed pending if I recognise the guy looking at me from the bathroom mirror or not, compromise?"

„Compromise. But believe me, you won't recognise him."

„We'll see..."

Wilson came back a couple of minutes later looking traumatised.

„Going back to bed then?"

„Yes, I had a vision of my great grandfather's corpse in the mirror."

„Do you even have a memory of him?"

„No, he died in a tsarist pogrom in 1915. That's when my great grandmother took Bubbe and Aunt Zelda and left. Anyway, yes, I look like shit."

„I'll back in about an hour with coffee, ok?" House gently kissed Wilson's eyes shut and went for his bath in a vague hope of relief.

Together with the meds kicking in the warm water jets helped to bring the leg out of spasm somewhat and House felt reasonably secure on his feet again when he brought Wilson his coffee and two cinnamon cookies. He hated having to wake him again, but by now it was almost a quarter past nine and definitely time to get up and moving even by his standards. He set the mug down on the nightstand and gently shook Wilson. „Time to wake up, Jimmy love..." He was really feeling quite unusually tender this morning.

„Mrrmmm..."

„Coffee is getting cold..."

„Shit, what time is it?"

Well, that had woken him up anyway. „09:15. I'll make you some breakfast and get dressed while you have your coffee, then I won't be in your way."

„Fuck, you said you'd wake me in an hour, that's nearly an hour and a quarter now! And what about your breakfast?"

„I'm not hungry."

„Doesn't mean you don't have to eat."

„Yeah yeah, I'll have something." Wilson was unfortunately right. „Just get yourself ready and leave me the fuck alone!" He ignored Wilson's worried look at that. What exactly did he expect an hour and a bit before he was supposed to defend himself for something completely idiotic in court? There was only so much Polyanna he could do on the best of days, and this was by no means one of them.

They dressed and breakfasted in silence and only started talking again in the car on the way to the courthouse in Trenton. Wilson was driving, because while the spasm was now finally gone, House's leg still wasn't playing particularly nice with the stress he was trying to con himself into not feeling. Wilson lay his hand on his good thigh: „How about after this we just drive straight on to Brigantine? It'll be a hot day and the beach will do us both good."

„In these clothes?"

„I can run into a mall on the way and get shorts and towels while you wait in the car."

„I guess... Let's wait and see how I feel after this is over, ok?"

„Ok..."

They fell silent again until they met their entourage of witnesses and well wishers outside the court house. Gina was looking solemn and grown up in her blue sailor dress and loosely tied hair, while Cuddy was looking alternately amused and annoyed at seeing him up in court as the defendant once again and Rachel just seemed to take in in her stride. Foreman brought good wishes from Jada and from Chase, both of whom had to work, and complimented him on his suitably sober choice of suit and tie, getting a grunted acknowledgement along the lines of that he, House, had already known about sober suits and ties when Foreman had still been shitting his pants. Jack was looking absurd in the way only a student could, in what had clearly been his prom suit, a white polycotton shirt and a tie he had obviously nicked from Wilson. Ella Kaminski had invested her three hours of outfit shopping well, looking every inch the retired business woman in a discreetly patterned beige linen dress accessorised with a light cardigan, handbag and shoes in cream. Adrian and Dr Wyatt came over talking and giving off an optimistic vibe, which made House feel marginally better. Matty, also unsuccessfully dressed up as a competent adult, came over with a card. He smiled at House: "Here, that's from everyone in the building. Well, almost everyone I guess..."

House took it and looked; it said good luck and was signed by everybody who wasn't a witness anyway. „Thanks!"

The his phone rang, Danny's tone. „Hi Greg, just meant to wish you good luck! And from Joe, too."

„Thanks!"

„Sorry I didn't come; me and court rooms just don't go well together."

„That's ok. You just do what's best for you." And he meant it, the memory of Danny's latest psychotic break was still too fresh to want anything else for him.

„I will. Call me when you're done there, ok?"

„Will do..." For some reason Danny's call had made Alvie pop back into his mind, and the fact that it was nearly two weeks since he had promised him a visit. He made a mental note to call him in the afternoon and arrange a date and time. „Talk to you then, bye!"

„Bye!" They finished the conversation.

There was also an e-mail from Stacy, apologising for her absence due to a long scheduled medical appointment, but reassuring them that really House had nothing much to fear. Unfortunately that didn't do much to actually make him feel better, but at least she'd tried.

About 20 yards away the plaintiff's side of the proceedings was congregating, representing everything that was, as far as House was concerned, wrong with America, including the fact that they were undoubtedly thinking exactly the same thing about him and his entourage. The Reverend was wearing one of his, at a rough estimate, 76 black acrylic suits that he obviously thought was giving him the gravitas of a spiritual leader, even though all it was really giving him was BO. With him were a woman in a blue, calf length dress clearly made from tablecloth fabric, opaque hosiery and sensible shoes, a man also dressed in the austere acrylics fashion, a younger woman with a dress sense that could only be described as gaudy, a nondescript couple in modest dress and finally a young family with three kids, two boys and a girl. The older boy and the girl were huddled into their mom's skirt, whereas the middle child was looking at House with undisguised curiosity. Being looked at like that made him feel slightly uncomfortable, but at least the curiosity meant there was hope for the kid. He gave him a little smile, causing the boy to start and flee back to his mom. „Leave my child alone, you pervert!" she shrieked across to him.

„I'm not doing anything. He looked at me, I gave him a smile, being a friendly kind of guy and all." He gave her a completely shit-eating grin.

„You're grooming him, I know your type!"

„Grooming? I hardly ever groom myself, what on Earth would make you think I'd make the effort to do that with a kid? Besides I wouldn't know his choice of cosmetics!" He was now beginning to enjoy himself. Wilson, in the mean time, seemed to be dying a thousand deaths.

Adrian chuckled: „I think you're giving your boyfriend another brain haemorrhage here. And don't forget that, no matter how harmless or not, these guys will try to use all your behaviour against you."

„Meh..." From the corner of his eye House could see a light blue BMW convertible pull into a staff space on the parking lot. The driver was a Latina, forty-ish, and there was a big bumper sticker on the back stating that judges do it on the bench. He found himself hoping to whichever powers ruled the universe that she was the judge in charge of his case and that her bumper sticker indicated a good sense of humour as well as a free spirit. But then of course she would only hand down the sentence, and the jury would be quite a different matter. For FUCK's sake, what had he got himself into? He groaned, as his leg once again registered its disapproval of the whole situation. „Let's go in" he said. „I won't be able to stand for much longer." As the ramp was about six miles long, Foreman helped him up the few steps to the entrance and they went in.

Outside the court room Adrian gave everyone a last briefing., starting with Gina: „Ok, you know what you've got to do, right?"

„Yes, just tell everyone what I saw."

„Exactly. And make sure you don't say what you think of these people, just the facts."

„Ok."

„And some of the people the Reverend brought might say mean things or ask questions that might make you feel bad, but you can't let that affect you."

„What does affect mean?"

„It means that whatever they say, you shouldn't let that make you feel bad."

„I won't, they're stupid!"

„And that is something you definitely shouldn't say in there."

„Cos that's what I think of them and not just what I saw."

„That's it. Do you think you can do that?"

She nodded vigorously. „Yes!"

Adrian now turned his attention to the adult witnesses. „I guess you all know the drill?" Everyone nodded, Foreman in a particularly vigorous way. It wasn't the first time he had to help extract House from the soup after all.

The usher came and brought House and Adrian into the court room while the witnesses were led away to be called when their time to testify came. Inside, they sat down next to each other, House fervently hoping that the judge would show mercy and let him make his statements from his seat, because at this stage he didn't trust his leg to even hold up as far as the dock ten feet away. Another usher came in. „Please rise for her honour, justice Carla de Santos." House broke into a cold sweat getting up, putting as much weight as he could on the walker as he could and desperately trying to ignore the 3/4" masonry drill in his right thigh. Thanks goodness judge de Santos immediately bade them to sit down.

She confirmed the personal details: "Are you defendant Dr Gregory House, born June 11th, 1959 in Waukegan, Illinois, resident at 294 Nassau Street, Princeton, New Jersey?" House made to get up again to confirm that, but was stopped by the judge. „You may remain seated."

The Reverend protested: „That's favourable treatment!"

„No", the judge corrected. „That's reasonable accommodation under the Americans with Disabilities Act. Standing obviously causes the defendant difficulty and pain."

„Great, about time he did penance."

„Well, you're perfectly free to run your church with that attitude. This. however, is my court room and my attitudes apply ." House couldn't help himself but poke out his tongue at the Reverend. „Defendant, this is also not a second grade class room. Kindly behave!"

„Sorry, your honour, and thanks for letting me sit. Yes, I am Dr Gregory House, native of Waukegan, Illinois." House found it a bit surprising that the Reverend turned out to be from Vermont, in his experience religious fanatics didn't grow well in that soil, but that was the way it was. Next, House sneaked a look at the jury - a mixed bunch, which he hoped would work in his favour.

The proceedings started. "Defendant, you are accused of having forced a sexual act upon the plaintiff on Sunday, 25th May this year, what do you plead?"

"Not guilty!"

"Do you deny the act of kissing the plaintiff and forcing your tongue into his mouth?"

"No, but I deny the act was sexual or sexually motivated."

"Kisses are either motivated by friendship and affection, or they are sexual in nature." The DA, a Mr van Aldenhoven, cut in. "I think we can regard it as obvious that you don't feel either friendship or affection for the plaintiff. Hence the approach must have been sexual."

House opened his mouth to reply to that allegation but Adrian gestured at him to be silent: "Mr van Aldenhoven, I think you might change your opinion on that once we have heard the testimony from Dr Wyatt over there. Dr House's mind does not operate as simply as you are suggesting."

Dr Wyatt acknowledged that with a nod and Adrian went on.

"As this trial proceeds you will find that, if my client is guilty of anything at all it is minor assault under severe provocation. This kiss was his long-delayed response to a three-year-harassment campaign from the plaintiff on grounds of sexual orientation, which my client and his partner, witness for the defence Dr James Evan Wilson, bore with admirable restraint by ignoring it."

"So why couldn't they have gone on ignoring it, sparing us all having to sit around a stuffy court room on such a glorious day?" Judge de Santos asked.

"They could not ignore the harassment any longer, because not only were the plaintiff and his congregation creating a nuisance for innocent by-standers by staging a picket outside their apartment building, but also because the picket caused particular emotional distress to their seven-year-old honorary granddaughter, witness for the defence Gina Elizabeth Blythe Cuddy."

House nodded in acknowledgement, causing the judge to involve him in the conversation again. "What exactly happened?"

"Regarding Gina's emotional distress?"

"Yes!"

"She is usually a very happy, even-tempered child who will deal with difficult situations rationally by talking through them, but that night she came to our bedroom crying because the picket had given her a nightmare."

"How are you so sure that nightmare was directly connected to the picket?" The DA asked.

"I think we'll leave the explanation of that to the witness" Adrian said, making it very clear in his tone that was a statement and not a suggestion.

The first witness for the defence was called, squeezing House's shoulder in passing. "Dr James Evan Wilson, born February 28th, 1969 in New Westminster, British Columbia, Canada, resident at 294 Nassau Street, Princeton, New Jersey?"

"Yes!"

"Are you even an American citizen? How can we be sure anything this man says can be trusted?" The Reverend did not seem happy.

"I'm not sure how my place of birth and citizenship are relevant to any of this, but if it helps you deal with the nightmare of having to listen to the testimony of a Canuckistani I can assure you that I grew up on Long Island since the age of six and have held dual citizenship since I was 21."

The judge didn't seem too happy either: "Reverend, establishing the trustworthiness of the witness is my job, and not yours! Dr Wilson, I can tell you're good at sarcasm, but there's a time and a place for that and this is not it, so kindly skip it!"

"Sorry, your honour, I will. My name is Dr James Evan Wilson, born in New Westminster, BC."

"What is your relationship to the defendant?"

"We've been best friends for fifty years and lovers for twenty."

Mr van Aldenhoven asked for Wilson to be sworn in: "As the witness has a clear personal interest in the defendant being acquitted, it strikes me as the right course of action."

"I'm an atheist, so I can't honestly swear." The plaintiff shuddered at the word 'atheist'.

"Alright" the judge stated. "So would you please affirm?"

"Of course. I do solemnly and sincerely declare and affirm that the evidence I am about to give shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth."

"Thank you! Mr Gimignano stated that Dr House was acting under severe provocation when he committed the assault on Reverend Wright. Can you please tell us what happened in the run up to the deed?"

"Where do you want me to start? With the three year harassment campaign, or just that particular weekend?"

"Please stick to that weekend for the moment!"

"It started on Friday afternoon, when Dr House had gone to pick up our granddaughter..."

"Is that the witness Gina Elizabeth Blythe Cuddy?"

"Yes... He had taken the car to pick her up from school, and I was cleaning around the window facing the street when I noticed a commotion outside the entrance to our building. The Reverend was there preaching through a megaphone, and about twenty people holding placards clearly designed to insult Dr House and myself, and to attract attention to the fact that we live there and, in their opinion, shouldn't."

The DA cut in: "How can you be so sure the placards were targeted at you?"

"I'm the only Jewish person living there who can feasibly be considered gay, so who else would a placard saying Jew Fag be targeted at? Also, in the context of the harassment campaign preceding the picket, it made sense."

"Ok, please go on" the judge said. "What happened then?"

"I decided to ignore the picket for the time being and sat down on the balcony with a bottle of wine and some Broadway classics, which I happen to like."

"Did the people forming the picket react?"

"I don't think so, but then I didn't really look. I was trying to ignore them after all."

Adrian smiled: Wilson was doing a good job making his deliberate provocation of the crowd outside seem coincidental.

"Please continue!"

"About ten minutes later, Dr House and Gina came back. They both looked slightly shaken, and Dr House seemed even more unsure on his feet than usual. You might have noticed his mobility impairment."

"Indeed it hasn't escaped my notice."

"I asked what had happened and they told me that the people forming the picket had crowded around Dr House when they were trying to walk to the entrance instead of making space to let them through, nearly causing him to fall."

"Could that have been coincidence?"

"I suppose it could have been, but on the other hand I think we can all agree that it's at the very least good manners to make space for a person who clearly has difficulty walking and is using a mobility aid."

"Good manners aside, could it or couldn't it have been coincidence?"

"I don't think it was."

"Right, so what happened next"

"We made a communal decision to ignore the picket for the time being, as they were obviously trying to attract attention, so not giving it to them seemed like the best course of action. That worked until we had gone to bed."

"Dr House mentioned a nightmare?"

"Yes. It was about midnight. We were in bed, but still awake, when Gina came in looking very distressed. When we asked her what was wrong, she started to cry and only calmed down when she had snuggled up between us in bed."

"Maybe she was just trying to attract attention? It's not unheard of in children that age after all."

"I've known her since she was ten minutes old, and she's not that kind of person. Anyway, given that the picket had obviously caused her emotional distress we decided to call the police in the morning after breakfast, but an officer turned up before we had, because our downstairs neighbours, the Garrisons, had called them already."

"When was that?"

"In the morning while we were preparing breakfast. Officer McCarthy told us he had been called to deal with the commotion outside, but had been told by the Reverend that we were the real problem, so he'd had to come up to investigate."

"What did you tell him?"

"The same thing I'm now telling you."

"Anything else?"

"No, but our neighbour, Ella Kaminski, had just dropped in and told Officer McCarthy more about the Reverend's campaign against us over the years, some of which we hadn't even been aware of."

"We shall go into more detail about that when she testifies, for the moment please go on with what happened."

"Later that day we went to the zoo, and I witnessed myself how difficult the Reverend and his congregation were making it for us to get through their crowd to our car. Dr House was using a wheelchair at the time, so it wasn't as dangerous for him as before, but even I felt insecure on my feet."

"And next?"

"When we came back from the zoo, followed by our friends, the Foremans, in their car..."

"Is the witness for the defence Dr Eric Foreman one of them?"

"Yes... The Reverend and his people had changed their strategy from forming an ordinary picket to staging a sit in in our parking space."

"A sit in?"

"Yes!"

"And that parking space could not have been construed as anything but for what it was?"

"No. It's a handicap space clearly marked with the usual blue and white wheelchair symbol and granted to us by the municipality of Princeton Township. As Dr House is furthermore the only person living in the building whose disability clearly entitles him to such a space it must have been perfectly clear to the Reverend what he was doing."

"What did you do?"

"Ask them to leave."

"Politely?"

"Dr House was annoyed, so he wasn't overly polite. We were, however, not aggressive and eventually decided to park 50 yards up the road rather than to really confront them. When we got back down, Dr Foreman, who is a practising Christian himself, was talking to the Reverend and trying to convince him to abandon the picket, but to no avail. We then went back inside and spent the evening together at our apartment. Then, during the night, Dr House was woken by a severe pain attack."

"How is that relevant to the case?" The DA was taking his job seriously at any rate.

"Dr Wyatt will probably explain most of the that, so for the time being I guess it's enough to say that he suffers from severe chronic pain in his right leg and that it gets worse under stress."

"So you're saying experiencing the picket caused a flare-up?"

"Yes! And it was bad, I hadn't seen him in so much pain for years."

"How can you judge that?"

"For starters, Dr House has been in chronic pain since he was 40, and I've been with him pretty much every step of the way, so I know from experience how he looks and acts when it's bad, and then I'm an oncologist, so judging and managing severe pain is part of my job."

"Are you still practising? Otherwise your judgment could have suffered from inexperience since you've retired."

"I still practise as a volunteer and see terminal patients, so treating cancer pain is still a fairly regular occurrence in my life."

"Ok, so what next?"

"We eventually managed to fall asleep again, but it took Dr House three days to recover from the attack and get back to his normal pain level. On Sunday we took Gina to McDonald's, and had to fight our way through the crowd outside the door again. Dr House was walking this time, and again they didn't make space. To me it looked like they were passive-aggressively trying to knock him over."

House nodded: That was sure as hell what it had felt like.

"At the same time, the Reverend was preaching Leviticus 18 through his megaphone, and I guess that was the straw that broke the camel's back for Dr House. He pushed his way through the crowd as best as he could, dragged him into his arms and French kissed him. Then he told him to sue now he actually had something tangible to complain about. Everyone was stunned by that for a minute or two, so we were able to make our way to the car unimpeded."

"How exactly can a man with Dr House's degree of disability push through a crowd?"

"Pure anger..." House muttered.

Wilson agreed: "He was driven by anger, and that can achieve a lot in terms of short term physical exertion."

"Ok, and then?"

"We went to McDonald's. When we got back, Officer McCarthy was there again. This time the Reverend had called him because of the kiss, and he verbally reprimanded Dr House. He also asked further questions on what had been going on. and questioned us about allegations the Reverend had made regarding Gina staying with us."

"What were these allegations?"

Wilson had to swallow a couple of times and take a deep breath before he got it out: "Apparently he alleged that we sexually abuse her."

"And is there any truth in that?"

Wilson was now beginning to look as angry as House was feeling, and Adrian cut in.

"Objection! This question is irrelevant to the case, counterproductive and libellous in the context!"

"Objection sustained! Mr van Aldenhoven, please retreat the question!"

"I retreat the question."

"Thank you! Dr Wilson, back to you!"

"There's not much more to say. I went back out to take Gina to school on Monday morning, and when I got back home the picket was gone."

"Thank you. You may take a seat."

Wilson sat down next to House and took his hand.

The next witness was called: "Gina Elizabeth Blythe Cuddy, born September 14th, 2034 in Princeton, New Jersey, resident at 5, Duffield Place, Princeton, New Jersey?" Gina seemed a bit overwhelmed by the actual reality of the court room and, for the moment, stayed silent.

The judge gave her a smile: "Take a deep breath and count to ten in your mind, then you won't be so nervous anymore."

Gina counted under her breath: "1... 2... 3... 4..." Then she swallowed and took a deep breath: "Yes, I am Gina Elizabeth Blythe Cuddy, because Mom liked the name, and for Grandma and for Uncle Greg's mom. I live at 5, Duffield Place in Princeton."

"Well done, and do you know why you're here?"

"Yes, because Uncle Greg did something stupid and I have to explain why he did it, so he won't go to jail."

"So you think what he did was stupid then, huh?" The DA went straight for the jugular.

"Of course it was! But he did it because the Reverend was mean to him and to Grampa and to me, so I still think he shouldn't go to jail for it, and that's why I promised him I'd come and be his witness."

"Did he ask you to do that?"

"No, Officer McCarthy said that it was a way of helping Uncle Greg and so I said I was gonna do it."

"Do you like helping your Uncle Greg?" Adrian started building up his picture of the unconventional but happy family.

"Yes; he's cool."

"Why do you think he's cool?"

"Cos when I'm staying with him and Grampa we always do fun things together, and they bought me my piano, and when Grandma was younger they helped her bring up mom and... Uncle Greg and Grampa are cool!"

Judge de Santos was concerned with waterproofing the testimony of a juvenile witness in the mean time: "Just to clarify things, can you tell us your Grampa's name?"

"Dr James Wilson."

"Ok, and is he here with us?"

"Yes, he's sitting right over there with Uncle Greg. That's a silly question. And Uncle Greg's full name is Dr Gregory House."

"I just need to make sure you know what you're talking about, because some children your age don't yet, you see. And it's really important that we can rely on what you're saying so we can figure out who was right or wrong there, your Uncle Greg or the Reverend. Does that make sense?"

Gina thought for a moment, then nodded: "Yes!"

"Ok, then we need you to tell us what happened on that weekend. Not who you think is right or wrong, or if someone is mean or not, just what you saw, do you think you can do that?"

Gina swallowed again and took another deep breath: "Yes!"

The judge smiled at her: "Fire away then!"

"Uncle Greg picked me up from school on Friday and when we got back to their building there were lots of people outside, with placards."

"Are any of these people here right now?"

"Yes, the Reverend is sitting over there, and he was talking to them through a megaphone. And when we met up outside I saw some people who were there with him, too."

"What did it say on the placards?"

"I don't remember all of them, but some said that gay people are evil, and that God wants them to go to hell. And one was there that said Jew Fag, and I asked Uncle Greg what that meant."

"And what did he say that it meant?"

"He said it was a really bad word for someone like Grampa and that I shouldn't use it, and when I said that he sometimes uses bad words about Grampa, too, he said that this one was different and he just didn't want me to use it, cos it was horrible. He seemed really shocked, too."

"And does he use bad words himself?"

"Yes, especially about Grampa, but he said they were a different kind of bad words."

"And do you think that, too?"

"Yes, cos I'd never seen him shocked like that before. And when we got upstairs I asked Grampa what Jew Fag meant and he said it meant these people really hated him and wanted him dead. Uncle Greg sometimes tells him that he's a wimp, or a sissy, or a pain in the… behind, but I don't think that means he wants him dead. Besides if he hated Grampa they wouldn't share a bed, would they?"

"That's for them to decide, so what happened next?"

"You mean before we got upstairs?"

"Yes..."

"We got out of the car, and tried to get through the crowd to the door. Only it was really hard, cos they wouldn't get out of the way for Uncle Greg, and he nearly fell. They just shoved around; it was like they wanted him to fall. I was really scared for him."

"Why?"

"Cos he can't walk properly, and so it's safer for him when people get out of the way, and usually when we're out and there's a crowd they do."

"You said the Reverend was talking to the other people. What did he say?"

"That Uncle Greg was a pathetic cripple, and that God had twisted his limbs, yet he would not repent, and that he was dragging an innocent child down to hell with him. I didn't really know what any of that meant, so I asked Uncle Greg and he said it meant that God was punishing him for being a bad person."

"And what did you think about that?"

"That they were silly, cos Uncle Greg isn't a bad person."

"And then?"

"We got upstairs to the apartment and Grampa and Uncle Greg said we'd best just ignore those people, only then during the night I had a really bad dream about them and was sad, and I ended up sleeping in bed with Grampa and Uncle Greg, cos I was so scared."

"And what did you dream?"

"That they had taken me away to one of these places where they show people what hell is like, and I was all alone there with them and they were saying mean things about Mom and Grandma and Grampa and Uncle Greg, and how I was gonna go to hell because of them." She looked upset again for a moment.

"Are you ok? You can sit down and have a cuddle with your Grampa and your Uncle if you want, and then go on."

"I'm fine!"

"You're a very brave girl. So do you think you'll go to hell now, or that they will?"

"No, cos there's no such place. And I'm not bad, and neither are they. I just dreamt of those people, not of hell."

"Ok, and next?"

"Next officer McCarthy came before breakfast because the people living downstairs had called him, and then Mrs Kaminski from across the landing came, too. Officer McCarthy said the Reverend had said that Grampa and Uncle Greg had provoked him into... Uncle Greg, what do you always call that?"

"Staging the picket."

"Yes, staging the picket, and so he asked us all questions, and Grampa and Uncle Greg both said that he'd been mean to them ever since he moved in, and Mrs Kaminiski said that, too."

"And do you know if they ever retaliated?"

"Re- what?"

"If they ever were mean back to him, or said anything to him, things like that."

"No, I don't think they did. Mrs Kaminski said that, too."

"We'll talk to her later; right now we only need to know what you said and did."

"Ok. Officer McCarthy left, and in the afternoon we went to the zoo to meet up with Grampa and Uncle Greg's friend Foreman. He's a witness, too. It was pretty ok getting through the crowd then, I think because Uncle Greg was in the wheelchair, so they couldn't shove him over."

"No personal impressions, please, unless someone's asking for them. So the crowd let you through?"

"I... I... don't really know, sorry." Gina looked sad and angry with herself.

The judge smiled: "You're ok; no one can know everything, and you're still doing really well. What happened when you got back?"

"Am I doing well? Really?"

"Really!"

Gina looked proud again now and continued: "When we got back the Reverend and all these other people were sitting in the handicap space that only Grampa and Uncle Greg are supposed to use, and they didn't get up when they saw us coming."

"Did you do anything to make them leave, like talk to them?"

"Uncle Greg stuck his head out the window and told them to go away, but they didn't listen, so Grampa drove on and parked further up the road."

"And then?"

"We came back down and Foreman was talking to the Reverend. He's a Christian, too, like the Reverend."

The Reverend looked scandalised, and House couldn't help grinning slightly at the idea of Foreman hearing himself mentioned in the same breath.

"What did he say to the Reverend?"

"He said to him that the Lord preached tolerance and respect, and that he should leave two old men alone. And the Reverend said that he would if they weren't a bad influence on other people. And then Foreman said that Jesus was friends with cripples and sinners and that he was in good company with Grampa and Uncle Greg. Then the Reverend said that Foreman hadn't heard the message of Jesus and Foreman said he had before the Reverend was born and it spoke of love. And then we went inside."

"And that was all for the day?"

"Yes!"

"So what happened on Sunday?"

"Uncle Greg looked really bad and tired, like he was in a lot of pain, and I said we didn't have to go to McDonald's for lunch like we usually do if he wasn't well, and he said we'd go anyway, because if we didn't the Reverend and his friends would win. And when we went he was using the walker again and they didn't let him through, and the Reverend was saying it's bad for a man to lie with another man, and Uncle Greg suddenly looked really angry and pushed through the crowd and kissed him."

"And then?"

"He called him a bad word and said that now he could sue him."

"What did the Reverend say?"

"Nothing, I think he was too surprised."

"And you?"

"We went to the car."

"Did anyone else but you and your Grampa see that?"

"Yes, Jack from downstairs. He's here, too."

"Did anything happen when you got back?"

"Yes, officer McCarthy was back and he told Uncle Greg that the Reverend was gonna sue, and asked lots of questions about what had made him kiss him, and then he asked me if Grampa and Uncle Greg touched me in ways I didn't like, and then he said I could help Uncle Greg in court if I was a witness, and then he left."

"And was there anything else?"

"No!"

"Ok, thank you, Gina, and well done! You can sit down with your Grampa and Uncle now."

"Thank you!" Gina curtseyed and sat down next to Wilson, who at this stage had his arm protectively around House.

It was Ella Kaminski's turn next, filling in the court on the events leading up to the picket.

"Ella Grace Rubin Kaminski, born July 12th, 1964 in Springfield, Oregon, resident at 294, Nassau Street, Princeton, New Jersey?"

"Yes, and I've been the closest neighbour to Dr House and Dr Wilson for five years" she explained her relationship to House. "I moved into the building shortly after the loss of my husband to downsize, and they quickly proved to be good, supportive friends."

"What was your first impression of Dr House then?"

"I couldn't really tell you, because I had already known both of them casually when they were regular customers at the deli I owned with my husband. By and large I guess I thought of him as a harmless eccentric. Among our staff he was known as 'No Pickles Guy'." House couldn't help but gawk slightly, he'd never thought of himself as the kind of person who inspired nicknames in retail staff, except 'arrogant bastard' maybe. "He sometimes came across as a bit harsh, but never really like a bad person, more like someone who had too much on his plate to bother with social niceties."

"Did that impression change when you got to know him better?"

"No; it was reinforced actually. Dr House takes some getting to know, and he's pretty prickly, but he's ultimately worth the effort."

"Do you think other people in your building might feel the same way about him?"

"Well, Mr O'Sullivan from downstairs has volunteered as a witness for the defence. Also Mr Garrison, who lives downstairs and performs janitorial duties in the building has highlighted the Reverend's behaviour with the rental agency, and everyone living there has signed a good luck card, so I guess he's generally well liked."

"Would you make any exception there?"

"The Reverend, obviously, or we'd all be on the beach right now. He moved in about three years ago, and he seemed to realise pretty soon that Dr House and Dr Wilson were more than just friends. Dr Wilson is a social kind of person, so when he meets someone in the lobby he'll always have a smile and a friendly word for them, and people usually react the same way, but the Reverend will just throw him a nasty glance and move on, and he completely ignores Dr House."

"And is he any more social with the other residents?"

"Slightly. He'll say hello to everyone else at any rate, and react to being greeted. And I don't think he posts nasty signs on other people doors."

"So he posts signs on Dr House's and Dr Wilson's door?"

"Yes, he has done that almost since the moment he moved in. Stuff like 'Sodomite's Den' with the apostrophe in the wrong place, 'Jew Fags', 'Fudge Packers' and so on. I kept peeling them off because I figured he was harassing them enough with the pamphlets he kept sliding under the door."

"So there were both signs and pamphlets?"

"Yes; basically he's harassed Dr House and Dr Wilson for the entire three years leading up to this."

"Would you have any of the signs or pamphlets?"

"No, I always threw the signs away immediately; I don't want such things around."

The DA chirped in: "As the witness has no material proof of those signs' existence I request for her to be sworn in."

"Request granted! Mrs Kaminski, are you ready to swear that those signs were there?"

"Yes!"

Ella was sworn in, and the testimony went on.

"I have some of the pamphlets." Adrian spoke up. "If you'd like to have a look…"

"Please!"

Adrian passed the pamphlets on to the judge, who seemed to find it hard to preserve her neutral expression at the sight of them.

"Did Dr House and Dr Wilson ever do anything about that?"

"Not that I'm aware of. They just ignored it as well as they could, talking about it to their friends, but, to my knowledge, never actually confronting the Reverend."

"And things stayed that way all the time until the picket?"

"Yes!"

Adrian chimed in: "So would you say Dr House was provoked?"

"Definitely!"

That wasn't enough for Mr van Aldenhoven: "Provoked enough to assault the plaintiff?"

"Provoked enough to make me feel that the Reverend should consider himself very lucky that the roles of plaintiff and defendant aren't reversed today. Dr House would have any reason to sue him for harassment and he'd certainly have me as a witness for the prosecution."

"After three years of signs and leaflets, what do you think made the situation escalate to the picket?"

"Gina's presence. On the first day of the picket I tried to reason with the Reverend and he said that he couldn't help but go public because she was in danger."

"In danger of what exactly?"

"Hell, as far as he was concerned. And he dropped hints that he thought she was being sexually abused, too."

"Would you think there is any evidence of the latter?"

"Absolutely not! Look at Gina, does she seem like an abused child to you? Not to mention that the idea of two gay men sexually abusing a girl is absurd in the first place!"

House and Wilson silently decided between themselves that this was not the time to correct the court about their sexual identities.

"So all in all you consider the Reverend's behaviour towards Dr House and Dr Wilson inappropriate and think they should have confronted him earlier instead of allowing the situation to escalate to this point?"

"I guess so. I certainly think that Dr House had every reason to be angry when the kiss happened."

"Ok, thanks, you may sit down now."

Ella sat down next to Gina and the next witness was called.

"Dr Eric Du Bois Foreman, born July 20th, 1973 in Richmond, Virginia, living at 91, Southfield Road, West Windsor, New Jersey?"

Foreman nodded: "That's correct."

"How would you describe your relationship with the defendant?"

"I started off as his employee at the Department of Diagnostic Medicine at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital over 40 years ago. He was the department head and also very much a mentor to me. Later we became friends, and have been for… 20 years, 30 years? House, you decide that!"

"Definitely closer to 30 years than to 20" House added. He hated admitting that, but by now he and Foreman had been friends for a very long time.

"Ok, we've been friends for nearly 30 years."

"Right, so what happened on the weekend in question?"

"We'd met up at the zoo in Bordenstown to bring our grandkids there, and Dr House was very helpful in keeping my grandson in check. He's almost at the toddler stage now and quite a handful."

"That's his grandson, not me…"

"Sure? But then I guess Nat is better on his feet than you are. Anyway, Dr House and Dr Wilson had both dropped hints that not all was well between them and the Reverend, and when we got back to Princeton we saw him and his congregation staging a sit in in their parking space. It's a designated handicap space, which is clearly visible, so they really had no business being there. Dr House asked them to leave from the car window, but they refused, so he and Dr Wilson decided to park 50 yards up the road. In the mean time me and my wife had parked our car, too, and gone to see the Reverend to talk sense into him. I've been a churchgoing Christian for as long as I can remember and was hoping to get through to him more easily on that basis."

"What did you say?"

"I suggested that he must have been reading different parts of the Bible from me to come up with the conclusion that staging that picket was a good idea, and asked him to leave them alone simply on the basis that they're decent people and deserve to live in peace."

"Did you succeed?"

"No – he replied that they were a bad influence on everyone in the house, and particularly Gina, and so he didn't have a choice but to do what he was doing."

"Bad influence in which way?"

"The things you'd expect – spreading secularism, atheism, tolerance of sin and so on. So I told him that Jesus was a Jew who spent his time with cripples and sinners, and that therefore I felt in good company with my friends, and he questioned my faith, to which I replied that I had heard the message of Jesus long ago and it spoke of love. I also suggested they go away before the police got serious with them and he told me about peaceful resistance."

"As in civil disobedience?"

"I guess. My family's civil rights activism goes all the way back to the Underground Railroad, and I'm pretty sure they'd all have disagreed with the Reverend, so that sounded slightly bizarre to my ears."

"What happened then?"

"We went in, which was quite difficult because the crowd would not part to let us through. Then upstairs in their apartment I found a note from their downstairs neighbour who's also the janitor stating he'd contacted the rental agency about the Reverend's behaviour because he considered it unacceptable. We spent the evening together then and me and my wife and grandson went home shortly before midnight. The picket was still there, but didn't react much to our presence. Whether that was because I'm straight and Christian or because they were tired I couldn't say."

"And that was it?"

"Yes!"

"Thank you, Dr Foreman, you may sit down with the defence."

Foreman sat down and the last defence witness was called. "John Padhraic O'Sullivan, born March 17th, 2022 in Baltimore, Maryland, resident at 294, Nassau Street, Princeton, New Jersey?"

"Except that it's pronounced Paw-rack, as in St Patrick, that's correct, yes."

"Some good old Irish patriots in your family, huh?"

"My dad. He's from Baltimore, County Cork. I'm convinced he timed conceiving me so I'd be born on St Patrick's Day."

"He obviously did a great job calculating then. Anyway, what's your relationship to Dr House?"

"Me and my roomie Matty Cho – he's up there in the gallery, the little Korean guy – are his downstairs neighbours and both study medicine, so when we realised who was living on the third floor it was like hitting the jackpot. A bit like you'd have felt in law school if you'd lived in the same apartment building as two retired supreme court judges. In the medical community these two guys are absolute legends. Anyway, we got talking to Dr Wilson in the lobby one day shortly after we'd moved in and he invited us up for coffee. We got chatting and the whole thing turned into an informal tutorial. We've both come up for tutorials pretty regularly ever since, and we sometimes help them out around the household when they need stuff done they're too old for. The Reverend thinks we're paying them for the tutorials in sexual favours, though."

"Did he actually say that to you?"

"Yes!"

"And what did you tell him?"

"The truth: that we help around the household and that Dr House and Dr Wilson mostly tutor us for the enjoyment of it. No doctor ever stops being one just because they're retiring."

"So what would you say Dr House is in relation to you?"

"A mentor, and probably a friend, too."

"Why only probably a friend?"

"Because he's a very private kind of person and it would be presumptuous to call him a friend after only knowing him for a little over a year."

"Do you think he considers you a friend?"

|"I hope…"

"Dr House, would you consider Mr O'Sullivan a friend?"

House shrugged: "He's a good kid and he'll probably grow up to be a decent doctor. As for considering him a friend, we'll think about that once he's old enough to start shaving." Usually he would have said 'once his balls drop', but that didn't quite seem to cut it in court.

The judge smiled slightly: "Would I be right to think that this is was much of a declaration of friendship as anyone is ever likely to get out of you?"

"Probably…"

Wilson and Foreman ho-hummed their agreement.

Judge de Santos went back to business. "Mr O'Sullivan, what did you see of the incident and the time leading up to it?"

"I knew the Reverend wasn't on good terms with Dr House and Dr Wilson, everyone in the house knew that and they'd shown me some of the pamphlets he'd shoved over their door. Of the weekend of the picket I only saw the kiss and the immediate few moments leading up to it."

"Ok, so please tell us about these moments!"

"That was on Sunday, I was walking back from the convenience store on the corner because I'd got coke and popcorn to watch a movie with Matty. I saw the crowd outside the entrance…"

Adrian cut in: "Sorry to interrupt, Mr O'Sullivan, but how did the crowd act when you were leaving the house?"

"They parted for me to get through."

"Thank you, please continue!"

"… And I saw Dr House and Dr Wilson trying to get through, obviously with difficulty. I started running in case they needed help, and next thing the Reverend is preaching Leviticus 18 from his megaphone again and Dr House is pushing through the crowd and frenching him. Then he roared to sue him now he had something to complain about, and they left."

"Did the crowd let them through then?"

"I think they were all too stunned by what had just happened to react, so they just stood there. Didn't make space or anything, but didn't move in on them either."

"Ok, and that was all you saw?"

"Yes, that's all."

"Ok, please sit down with the other witnesses. We'll now hear Dr Wyatt's psychological assessment of Dr House and then we'll have a 15 minute coffee break, which I think we can all use."

"One more thing, please, your honour", Adrian said. "It's not that directly relating to the events of that weekend, but I think it shows clearly what kind of people we're dealing with on the side of the prosecution here."

Mr van Aldenhoven disagreed: "Objection, if it didn't happen on that weekend, it's not relevant to the case!"

"Objection overruled, as so much of this case is based on the plaintiff's obvious dislike of everything the defendant represents, all shows of attitude are relevant."

"Thank you!" Adrian went on to describe the interaction between House, the boy on the prosecution side and his mother. "Dr House gave the boy a little smile, because he seemed curious, and the mother immediately accused him of trying to groom her son for abuse. Her tone of voice was quite scared, too, as if she considered it a real possibility."

"Thanks, Mr Gimignano, I'm sure the jury will consider this valuable evidence. Can we now get to Dr Wyatt's assessment?" The judge looked around for a moment, then gave the psychiatrist a nod. "At your convenience, Dr Wyatt."

Dr Wyatt cleared his throat. "The first thing we have to realise about Dr House is that, while an intellectual genius, is emotionally arrested owing to childhood abuse from his father."

House was beginning to feel queasy, this was all getting way to personal for his liking. Wilson tightened his arm around him, knowing full well what he was going through.

"And when I say his father I mean the man who brought him up; Dr House only learned the full truth about his paternity at that man's funeral when he was in his late forties, though he had worked out he couldn't possibly have been this biological father at the age of twelve. When young Gregory confronted him about that, he found himself incarcerated and without human contact in his room for the entire summer. As House Sr. was an officer in the United States Marine Corps, the family also moved regularly, making him unable to put down roots anywhere or to form lasting friendships, and of course he stood out at any school he visited for his intellectual ability, which was looked on with suspicion by his peers. As a result of all that, you're now looking at a person with extremely low self esteem, serious trust issues, difficulties with forming social relationships and a conversion disorder that means any emotional stress he experiences will, unless taken care of immediately and rationally, which is hard for him to do because of the problems we just talked about, result in an increase of the chronic pain he experiences in his injured leg. Which, of course, brings us to the physical and emotional trauma he experienced as an adult. When he suffered a blood clot in his right thigh, his repeated reports of excruciating pain were dismissed as drug-seeking behaviour and he ended up diagnosing himself three days later, when muscle death had already occurred owing to the lack of circulation. Next, his then girlfriend ordered for the necrotic tissue to be removed while he was in a medically induced coma at his own request without having consulted him beforehand."

"Why had he asked to be put into that coma?"

"I was active in a lot of sports and had asked for surgery to restore the circulation without mutilating the leg. Afterwards I was in a lot of pain and wanted to sleep through that. Next thing, I woke up a cripple and… well, I'd have walked up the walls in pain if my leg had let me."

"Thanks, Dr House. Do you think there was any reason for the ER doctors to suspect drug-seeking behaviour?"

"Not really, it's just what ER doctors do when there's no obvious cause for excruciating pain."

"You still sound as if you haven't… quite made your peace with it."

"That's because I haven't. I've made my peace with the people who inflicted this on me, but with the fact itself? No, and I never will. It hurts too much for that. As in I've been in unbearable physical pain for 42 years."

"And that neatly brings us back to the reason why I'm sitting here" Dr Wyatt continued. "Dr House had experienced yet another enormous breach of trust, been deprived of the ability to do some of his favourite leisure activities and has been in serious pain at varying levels ever since. This led to an addiction to the narcotic painkiller Vicodin, which in turn led to chronic liver damage. Between his difficult childhood, the physical pain, the addiction and various traumatic experiences he suffered as an adult, Dr House developed chronic moderate to severe depression suffered a psychotic break that led to his voluntary hospitalisation at Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital shortly before he turned fifty. There is also an underlying mood disorder that makes him exhibit bipolar behaviour at times, but can't be diagnosed properly. The long and the short of it is that we're dealing with a person here who, while definitely sane, cannot be expected to act rationally in stress situations. And I think we can all agree that this picket and the fear of being shoved over must have been stressful for him in the extreme. In actual fact I'm impressed that he managed to ignore the Reverend's behaviour towards him and Dr Wilson for three years; that shows a lot more strength than you'd usually expect people with his psychological make-up to have."

The DA didn't seem to agree with that assessment: "Yet this poor, pain-ridden, hypersensitive man you've just described there seems quite aloof and happy to give sarcastic quips. Also, the demeanour of the defence witnesses tells me they're used to that kind of behaviour from him, so where does all that fit into the picture you've just built up for his benefit here?"

"All his so-called stupid and inappropriate behaviour in the past, as well as in this court room right now, can be explained by his psychological immaturity, and his need to build and keep up his emotional defences. Or do you honestly think a truly mature adult would poke his tongue out at the plaintiff he's up against in a court case?"

House felt as if he was about to puke and his leg was spasming again. His skin felt clammy under his shirt. Wilson noticed his discomfort and held him even tighter.

"I guess we'll see about that when I get my turn" the DA countered.

"Ok, so for now we're having coffee" the judge said and dismissed the court for the next 15 minutes.

Foreman got up first and stretched. "Shall I bring the coffee in for you guys so you don't have to get up, House?"

"No, it's spasming again, so I need to walk on it. Help me up and we'll go outside and get some air. Then you can get me coffee."

"Ok!"

Foreman and Wilson helped House up and they slowly made their way outside, House putting almost all of his weight on the walker. He and Wilson found a bench to sit on, while Foreman took Jack to help carry the coffees and Ella Kaminsiki and Gina stood around. Adrian and Dr Wyatt followed them out.

"How do you think it's going?" Wilson asked them, carefully massaging House's thigh in the hope of kneading out the spasm.

Adrian smiled: "I think it's going well. Did you see the jury's faces? Gina had them eating out of her hand. And the Reverend has been acting so bigoted that they're disgusted with him. Basically he'll have to turn water into wine or something to get a conviction out of this."

House just let all that wash over him; he was in too much pain to contribute to the conversation.

"Is it getting better at all?" Wilson asked, concern in his voice.

"No…"

Foreman and Jack reappeared with the coffees and House drank his down in huge, messy slugs, only for it to immediately want up again as soon as it hit his stomach.

Wilson gently stroked his back: "Are you sure it's only the stress and the pain?"

"Are you sure 'only' is the operative term here?"

"Sorry, no. It's just, are you sure there's nothing acute going on top of it to make you feel as bad as this?"

"Absolutely…" House sighed. "If the judge hadn't called the coffee break when she did I'd have puked all over myself."

"She called that with you in mind" Adrian said. "Usually Judge de Santos just rushes every trial through without bathroom breaks or regard for other people's physical well-being. Really things are looking up for us. Right now what the jury sees is a devoted old couple up against a bigoted religious hater. And the sexual assault charge was a non starter in the first place, because the worst this kiss can be construed as is lewd behaviour. Only at this stage it should be perfectly clear to them that you had no sexual interest in the Reverend, hence what we're left with is either minor assault under severe provocation, which is a non-event of a charge, or acquittal."

"What does acquittal mean?" Gina asked.

"It means your Uncle Greg can go home and put all this behind him without every having to worry about it again."

"That's good; I want that to happen. What did you mean when you said I had the jury eating out of my hand?"

"It means you did really well and the jury all thought you were wonderful and said great things."

"So if Uncle Greg gets… ac-"

"Acquitted…"

"Acquitted it's because I've said great things?"

"Well, that would be one of the reasons anyway."

"Coooooool…." She turned to Wilson. "If he gets acquitted we're making that cassata tonight! We never did it over the weekend!"

Wilson laughed: "Or else?"

"Or else you're mean and horrible!"

"Ok, just so I know what I'm dealing with. Promise, if he gets acquitted we're doing that. House, are you ok with that?"

"Whatever you're saying…" The spasm was finally beginning to get better, but it had left him completely exhausted.

"Time to go back in" Adrian announced. He gave House a sympathetic look. "You'll be out of here and on your way home in an hour and a half max."


End file.
